#drop me an ask if there's a word you want to prompt

[azzifuddfanpage]

Hey so like can you make a fic of azzi annoying paige while she on instagram,(like poking her, repeating her name) and then paige is just giggling and ignoring her and then when azzi keeps doing it paige like pins her down to the bed and asks her what she wants and azzi just laughs then says she wants her attention so paige gives her it and so on. PLEASE

Distracted

———— hiii sorry for not writing i haven’t felt very motivated! Pls give me feedback, and thank you for the prompt🫶🫶

2.1k words

themes: girlfriends/ fluff/ smut

tw: smut/ swearing

————

Azzi has never been much of a “screenager” as some might say. She definitely enjoys a good scroll every now and then, but she could think of a million different things she would rather be doing than going on her phone when she is with her friends. ESPECIALLY Paige. 

After 30 minutes of mindless scrolling Azzi had finally had enough. 

Azzi was lying angled at the side of her bed, her legs draped across Paige's stomach. 

Paige was scrolling on Instagram as well, brushing Azzi’s legs with her fingers gently. 

Azzi sat up a little so she could have a better view of Paige. 

She sighed dramatically as Paige didn’t seem to pay much attention.

“Paigeeee” she whined, sitting up and moving her legs so she could move closer to Paige.

“Hm?” Paige replied not looking up, only making Azzi’s lips turn into a pout.

“Watcha doin?” She said curiously inching her fingers over along the bed until they reached Paige's arm. 

“KK’s gonna go live, she wants me to join.” Paige said, clicking on her phone as she sees the notification.

“Hey girly pop!” KK’s voice echoes through the room.

“Oh paige request to join” kk continued, seeing paige show up in the chat.

Azzi flopped back against the wall defeatedly.

She was never gonna get Paige's attention now.

——

10 minutes later Paige was still live, and no sign of leaving anytime soon.

“I’m gonna go take a shower” Azzi says softly, only for Paige's voice to hear. 

She needs to figure out a way to get Paige’s attention. 

——

When she gets back to the room, she didn’t bring her clothes to change into.

As she crept back into the room quietly, she saw paige’s eyes drift to her body outlined in the towel. 

Azzi smirked, now we’re talking.

She walked over to the closet that was directly next to the bed, turning her head to make sure paige was looking at her.

When they made eye contact paige immediately regained her focus on the live to whatever kk was saying, pretending to still be interested, and not distracted by the pretty brunette in front of her.

Paige starts to respond to one of the comments, while Azzi turns back around to the closet and lets her towel drop, smiling to herself.

She can hear the shift in Paige's voice, her breath catching in her throat and eyes almost bulging out of her head at the sight of her curvy backside and muscular back.

“Uhmmmm” paige trails off watching as Azzi bends over to grab some of her pj shorts from the bottom drawer. 

She instantly feels a wetness grow between her thighs as she sees azzis pussy on display, her pink clit peeking through her tan folds. 

“Sorry- I uh- lost my train of thought.” Paige mumbles embarrassed as she turns away from Azzi’s view trying to maintain her focus. 

Azzi’s smirk grows seeing Paige get flustered. 

She slides on her shorts and shirt and crawls back onto the bed, out of view of Paige's camera. 

Paige looks down at her and gives her an irritated look.

If paige still wasn’t going to give Azzi attention like the princess she was, Azzi was going to have to get it herself.

She started at her feet, sliding her socks off one at a time. Looking up at Paige's startled face.

She then begins to slowly move her fingers up the legs of her sweatpants, stopping at the waist band. 

Before Paige can shove her away, Azzi moves up to her phone and tilts it so it is only showing her upper half. She then moves her fingers around the waistband, and slides them down Paige's legs.

Paige immediately crosses her legs embarrassed.

Azzi tries to pry them open, giggling as Paige was beginning to have a hard time holding back her smile as Azzi started tickling her. 

“Uh Kk it looks like I have to go, my uhm- phone is gonna die.” Paige says stifling her laughter.

“Isn’t that a charger next to you-“ kk starts, but her voice is cut off as Paige throws her phone to the side and catches Azzi’s hand mid tickle. 

She grabs her other hand, turning Azzi around and holding her by her wrists, her hands “cuffing” her behind her back. 

“What do you want, Azzi? Why are you being such a brat right now?” Paige says through her teeth into Azzi’s ear. 

Azzi shudders at her breath. 

“I just want your attention baby. I want it so bad.” Azzi practically moans as Paige's hands go up and tilt her head back so her neck is angled against Paige's shoulder. 

Paige's fingers wrap around Azzi’s chin, pulling it towards her so she can attach their lips. 

She places a wet sloppy kiss on her lip, running her tongue against Azzi’s bottom lip and biting down and pulling on it gently.

“You have it now princess.” Paige said roughly as her lips hovered over Azzi’s.

Azzi now was able to wiggle out from her grip, and create a distance from her and paige. 

“I want you so bad… I need you now.” Paige smirks as Azzi’s needy voice fills the air.

“I’m all yours baby.” Paige says as she reaches forward and pulls Azzi’s shirt over her head. 

Azzi’s perky tits drop from her shirt bouncing as Paige flips her so she is laying on the bed and Paige is now straddling her.

“Love these titties baby.” Paige said massaging them with her fingers.

Azzi moans at her touch, her eyes closing as Paige leans forward and sucks one of her nipples into her mouth. 

Paige is now hovering over Azzi, she lets go of Azzi’s nipples now, and crawls forward so her core is hovering over Azzi’s abs. 

Azzi can feel Paige's slick against her stomach as paige starts grinding against her, letting out soft moans at the friction.

“Damn this wet already.” Azzi teases, giggling as Paige replies with a breathy moan. 

Azzi reaches her hands up and tugs at her panties.

“Want them off p” Azzi whines, needing to feel the skin to skin contact. 

“Whatever you want princess” Paige says, sliding them off and lowering herself back down so she can continue to grind down on Azzi’s stomach.

The pressure on her lower tummy makes Azzi’s heart drop and the wetness between her legs grow.

Azzi attaches her hands to Paige's hips to help create more friction between the two. 

Paige quickens her pace, speeding up so she is rubbing against her more aggressively now, her juices spilling onto Azzi’s stomach. 

Azzi could come just at the sight of her like this. 

“You’re so perfect baby, fuck.” Azzi says as she can’t tear her eyes away from Paige's perfect body.

Paige lets out another long moan, and Azzi reaches forward and grabs her shirt pulling it over her head so Paige was completely nude. 

Azzi reaches up and grabs Paige's small perky tits and massages them, rubbing her pink nipple under her finger. 

The added stimulus triggers a response in Paige, she moans some more from the added touch. 

She leans forward attaching her lips to Azzi’s as she continues to grind back and forth her tongue battling against Azzi’s. 

Azzi swallowed her moans as they kissed, moving her hand down from her chest and down to Paige's clit to help her.

With a few swipes of her finger she could feel Paige's legs starting to twitch, and her moans became more choppy. 

“Azzi fuck right there.” Paige groaned, now hovering over her abs letting Azzi’s fingers do all the work on her clit.

Azzi sped up letting Paige's moans cue her motions.

She slid two fingers into her tight pussy, thrusting them in and out as Paige was struggling to keep herself up. 

Before she knew it Paige was yelling her name and her cum was flowing out of her and onto Azzi’s stomach.

“That’s it baby let it out, give it to me” Azzi said as she slipped her fingers out of her letting more of  Paige's white juices spill out into her, contrasting with the tan of her stomach. 

“Holy fuck” paige moaned, leaning onto Azzi to catch her breath.

Azzi was completely satisfied with herself for getting what she wanted. She knew Paige wasn’t able to resist her.

“Don’t think you aren’t getting punished for your behavior earlier.” Paige teased.

“Bro you’re gross.” Azzi laughed, shoving her face.

Paige smirked but pulled down Azzi’s shorts, immediately unveiling her glistening cunt

“Wow no panties either, just begging to be fucked aren’t you.” Paige teased as she ran her fingers through her folds.

Azzi let out a gasp as Paige settled on her clit rubbing small tight figure eights on it. 

Azzi’s moans grew as Paige's speed increased.

She started to feel her walls begin to tighten already, craving more pressure. 

She began to thrust her hips towards Paige's fingers, desperate to get more contact.

Paige pulled away confidently, smirking as Azzi’s pussy clenched around nothing.

“Please baby.. i'm sorry” she moaned as she began to move her fingers down, desperate to please herself.

“Need you to touch me..” Azzi continued.

“Wow getting me off got you this horny huh” paige said as she leaned into her, pressing her lips to her neck and licking along her jawline.

“Mhm” Azzi said, nodding eyes big and needy.

Paige began to continue kissing her, her knee pushing into Azzi’s center. She started to rub it against her as she maneuvered her tongue into her mouth. 

Paige adjusted their position so now her knee was lower, and her pussy was hovering over Azzi’s.

Azzi looked up at her needily, craving to feel her pussy against hers.

With that the two girls began working to get closer to each other, connecting their pussies so they were just inches away from each other. 

Their shaky breaths filled the air, Paige pressed down, and started rubbing her clit grinding against Azzi’s. 

Azzi moaned loudly at the contact. 

“Fuck” she said as paige circled her hips over Azzi, pushing into her so their clits were smushed together.

“You feel so good baby.” Paige's eyes locked on Azzi as she lets out a moan at the friction between them.

Paige speeds up thrusting her pelvis into Azzi, moans leaving her body as their hips smash together. 

Paige can feel herself grow closer, and can hear Azzi’s whimpers speeding up, a sign she knew meant Azzi was close. 

Paige rocked into Azzi with more force, watching as Azzi’s tits bounced with the impact. 

“You’re so beautiful Az.” Paige's egged, moaning as she felt the wetness between them grow.

“I’m so close don’t stop.” Azzi groaned as her nails dug into Paige's back, begging for more pressure.

“Fuck me and too shit” paige groaned and felt her stomach tightening. 

The room was silent except for the signs of their moans and the squelching of their pussies rubbing against each other.

“I’m coming P. Oh my fuck.” Azzi yelped as her juices began to pour out of her mixing with paige’s as they fell onto the sheets below them.

“Holy fuck that was good.” Paige said as she lay down next to Azzi on the bed.

Azzi couldn’t even speak; she just let out a moan in agreement as she snuggled her head into Paige's shoulder, their naked bodies connecting again, covered in sweat and each other’s cum. 

Paige rubbed her hand up and down Azzi’s back knowing how easily she gets overstimulated when she receives. 

She listens as Azzi’s heaving breaths slow and she drifts off to sleep snuggled up against her. 

She looks so cute all fucked out, paige can’t help herself, but get up and grab her phone taking a picture of her. 

Smiling to herself as she captions it, “fucked tf out of her” and sends it to Azzi laughing quietly, and she saves it to her my eyes only. 

She crawls out of bed slowly, and runs to the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth, cleaning herself off then returning to her room and gently wiping off Azzi’s skin, careful to not wake her.

She throws the towel into the hamper, and climbs back into her bed, not bothering to put clothes on and snuggling back into Azzi who subconsciously curled up into her side. 

The sound of Azzi’s breathing was like melatonin putting Paige off into a deep sleep. 

[229zmi]

LOST IN THE MAIL

Kuroo Tetsurō/Reader | 4.3k words, bad pick-up lines (of course), wingman yaku, more silly than romantic

The problem with assigned seating arrangements is an obvious one.

So blatant, like the slightly smudged pen markings on your desk that resemble two initials inside the ugliest shaped heart you’ve ever seen. You see this as the modern-day version of carving your lover’s name in the bark of some random ass tree, in the same way you view folded pieces of notebook paper passed between two of your new deskmates as the contemporary equivalent of letters exchanged overseas by lovers.

You suppose that makes you the unfortunate mail carrier, then, when you’re the one sitting right in the middle of it all, in between Kuroo Tetsurō and another classmate you don’t remember the name of.

Having worked with him for a few group projects in the past, you’d say you’re somewhat familiar with Kuroo. He’s nice, you remember from your conversations. Smart. Funny. His charm, aside from his physics-defying hairstyle, is the dimple on his left cheek when he smiles.

Maybe that’s why the first time he asks a favour of you, you don’t mind it too much.

It starts with a whisper of your name and then a shoe gently prodding against the bottom of your chair after your initial attempt at ignoring the disturbance. You whirl around in your seat to face him, and with a smile, Kuroo silently motions for you to hold your hand out before dropping a neatly folded piece of notebook paper onto your palm. As your gaze moves down to the object, the force of the atmosphere overpowers whatever effort he must’ve put into folding the paper one last time, so you end up catching a glimpse of the graphite embedded on it— something that looks like a heart and the start of a really shitty pick-up line.

Hey! Did it hurt when you fell from…

Before you can read further, he hovers a large hand over yours and the note, prompting you to glance up just in time to see him flash a smile, albeit a bit strained. He clears his throat awkwardly, even though you’re certain that there is no need to in the first place. “Sorry. Could you please pass this on to Yaku?”

You frown in confusion. It’s such a shame you’re so bad with names and faces because then maybe you could muster up a more intelligent response other than, “Who?”

Kuroo grins at your owlish response. His hand moves up, with his index finger extending just centimetres past your ear. Following it, your gaze lands on the brunet sitting in front of you.

“That guy, Yaku Morisuke. Just throw it over his head, he’ll know it’s from me. Thanks.”

Ah, you think, embarrassed as you hunch over your desk to politely hand the piece of paper to its intended recipient. He has a thing for the shortie sitting up front.

You’ve seen them bickering with each other like a married couple so often around school grounds that this makes perfect sense.

The rest of class goes like this: Kuroo writes a note and passes it to you. You pass it to Yaku. Yaku reads the note, writes something on the paper, and gives it to you. You hand it back to Kuroo. Repeat.

And then over the next couple of days, it becomes routine.

Of course, it’s not like you actually wanted to become an unpaid mail carrier. But who were you to disrupt your classmates’ high school romance? …Even if said romance was happening in the form of bad pick up lines and crumpled sheets of notebook paper with the occasional highlighter-yellow sticky note at eight in the morning.

Still, you do find it a bit strange, the way Yaku’s face scrunches up every time after reading Kuroo’s note. Maybe it’s disgust, or maybe it’s confusion. And Kuroo, in return, always looks mildly disgruntled at his response.

From this, you can only conclude that they must already be going through a rough patch in the early stages of their relationship. How unfortunate.

“Please tell Roosterhead to stop harassing me with these godawful pick up lines.”

Silence sweeps in between the two of you, interrupted only by the teacher’s voice as they drone on about thermodynamics. When all you have to offer is a blank expression in response to his sudden interjection after yet another note from Kuroo, Yaku explains awkwardly, “I’m talking about Kuroo. His hair— it kinda makes him look like a rooster, y’know?”

Out of sheer curiosity, you turn around to see if the comparison is true. You’re surprised, however, when Kuroo’s face is only inches away from yours, supported by the palm of his hand as his elbow rests near the edge of his desk.

“Hey.”

His mouth slants into a grin across his face. Forcing yourself to not search for the slight indent by his cheek, you instead focus on the asymmetrical bangs that fall just above his well-defined cheekbone and the tufts of hair that stick out from the top of his head.

“Yeah,” you breathe out.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “Yeah, what?”

“You do look like a rooster.”

(Behind you, Yaku stifles a laugh.)

Ruddiness blossoms from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “Don’t listen to that weirdo freak. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he says, right as Yaku makes a noise of indignation at the epithet.

“Okay, ‘weirdo freak’? That’s funny, coming from the guy who unironically says stuff like ‘cutie-patootie’ and—“ the offended brunet stops to unfold the paper, frantically skimming over the contents of it before reading it out loud “—‘Do you like science? Because I’ve got my ion you.’”

The rouge across Kuroo’s skin only deepens as he suddenly reaches for the note in Yaku’s grasp. However, at an impressive speed, Yaku’s hand moves out of his range just in time, leaving Kuroo’s arm sprawled pathetically over half of your desk, like a large fish dried up against the shore.

(Great, you think. You’re literally caught in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel, which had started over what?

…Bad flirting?)

It’s a pitiful attempt at hiding the evidence of his embarrassment when he passes a hand through his hair and it lingers near the ends of the sable tresses against his forehead, concealing half of his face for a few seconds longer than usual before he finally defends himself.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, I swear. You’re just saying it wrong because you’re so loser-ish and uncharismatic.” Kuroo pauses, then adds for good measure, “Unlike me.”

Yaku glowers at him, looking like a Minecraft creeper about to explode, though he manages to keep his voice as level as possible when he tries to defend himself, “I said it exactly like how it’s written on this paper. It’s a stupid line no matter how anyone says it. Listen—“

Then, as if remembering you’re here too, he turns to you. It reminds you of when the characters in a show look directly at the camera, and the realisation occurs to you all of a sudden that your nosy self has been staring at the two of them this whole time and very clearly listening in on their conversation, instead of the more informative yet less interesting lecture happening at the front of the classroom. Whoops.

“—how do you feel about this?”

You freeze for a moment.

“About— about the pick up line?”

“Yeah. It’s okay if you think it sucks,” he says. “Be brutally honest.”

Before you can respond, Kuroo butts in with a look of disapproval directed toward Yaku, though from your proximity to him, you can see that the ends of his mouth are clearly fighting against curling into a shit-eating grin. “How pushy of you, Yakkun, dragging our classmate into this just to prove your point. You should be ashamed.”

“It’s called gathering testimony,” Yaku argues before facing you again, this time with a sheepish expression. You half-expect him to start twiddling his fingers as well, but he doesn’t. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay,” you say, taking pity on him. “I guess if someone said that line to me, I’d think it was funny. Like, I wouldn’t be super impressed or anything, but it’s just so bad that it’s good?”

Yaku moves his hands up to the top of his head, as though he’s about to pull out his hair, and stares at you like the end of the world is happening and it’s all your fault.

Meanwhile, Kuroo turns towards him with a wry smile, opening his mouth wide, and the sound that comes out is oozing with triumph: “Ha.”

Yaku scowls. Then, after tossing the crumpled up note at Kuroo’s face in a fit of glorious rage, he whips around to the front of the classroom. For the rest of the period, he doesn’t look back, even when Kuroo pleads you to pass the note to him minutes later.

You wonder why it had to be you of all people to become such an unwilling witness to the turmoil of their relationship.

“Are you an exam paper? Because I forget everything when I look at you.”

For some reason, Kuroo Tetsurō is bad at eye contact.

Like, really bad, you think, because isn’t he supposed to be looking at Yaku when he says this sort of lovey-dovey crap? And it’s not as though doing so is impossible or difficult for him; the brunet is right there, standing off to the side behind him. So if Kuroo could just turn around in the correct direction, everything would be perfectly normal and you wouldn’t be sitting here at your desk fifteen minutes before class, puzzled as to why he’s looking at you right now.

Yaku rolls his eyes and slaps a hand against his forehead, looking visibly upset, and you think he’s about to scold him, accuse him of infidelity, break up with him right then and there. You think it’ll happen just like in all those dramas you’ve been watching lately. However, much to your surprise and maybe to your disappointment, he’s a lot calmer than you would expect for someone in this kind of situation.

“I told you not to use that line,” he chides, almost like a teacher scolding a student. “I said that one was bad.”

“No,” Kuroo says, frowning. “You said it was cute.”

“Hell no, I did not say that.”

“You did.” Silence lingers uncomfortably between the two of them as they stare at each other for a couple seconds, before Kuroo eventually declares in an accusatory tone, “You’re sabotaging me. I get it.”

“I’m not, wh—“ Yaku stops and sighs, moving down to rummage through his backpack on the floor until he finally pulls out a crumpled ball of paper. After smoothing it out across his palm, he then holds it up for Kuroo to see.

You try to crane your neck to look as well, but apparently there’s only so much you’re allowed to know about their relationship, evident in the quick side-eye Yaku gives you as he promptly holds his hand up to shield you from reading the note.

Okay, wow. Cosplaying disinterest, you pretend to examine the wrinkles in your palm while Yaku taps the paper with his pointer finger multiple times.

“Look. It literally says right here, ‘the first one sucks,’” he reads out loud passionately. “And then I said the second one was sweet.”

Kuroo’s eyebrows tug together. Then, they smooth out in realisation after he finishes reading the note, but before Yaku can utter something along the lines of “I told you so!,” he turns to you again with the same fond look in his eyes as he had a minute ago.

“You remind me of a dictionary, the way you add meaning to everything,” he tells you, and you swear your heart skips a beat at how earnestly he says it. The problem is, though, you’re not a homewrecker, and you don’t ever plan on being one, so you glance to Yaku for help, even going as far as to blink SOS in morse code in hopes that he understands that this is so, so out of your control. However, he just looks back at you like he’s waiting on your reply as well.

Shit, you think to yourself. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Err,” you start intelligently, mustering up the courage to look Kuroo in the eyes. You still don’t know what the fuck these people want from you, but you try to sound as objective as possible. “The pick-up line is… good?”

A smile paints Kuroo’s expression despite your totally pathetic response. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome…?” You nod weakly.

Nevertheless, when the teacher enters the room, indicating the start of class, Yaku has one last thing to add to this heinously stressful conversation as you and Kuroo take your seats. And again, he defies your expectations because surprisingly it isn’t an insult to Kuroo’s behaviour nor a mental breakdown over what he just witnessed. Rather, it’s quite simple.

“Let’s all go to the library after school today,” he suggests. “The three of us.”

You mull over it for several seconds. Well, you do have an exam for this class next week. And seeing how Yaku doesn’t seem to have it out for your blood just yet, you suppose a study session with two of your classmates can’t hurt— so, you agree.

(Amidst your thoughts, you miss the way Kuroo sends an overenthusiastic thumbs-up to Yaku from behind you, and Yaku roleplays humbleness with a roll of his eyes, too quick for you to notice.)

Ever since the semester started, you’ve created a list of things you want to curse the universe for bringing into your life to inconvenience you.

1) Assigned seating arrangements

2) Your teacher’s strict phone policy

3) Yaku Morisuke

Although maybe you should’ve added it way earlier, that last one is only a new addition as of today, after Kuroo announces to you that Yaku just texted him. Watching him as he reaches down to pick up his backpack and plop it onto the chair next to him, where Yaku should be sitting but isn’t, you can kind of get the gist of what’s happened. You’re already starting to plot against him in your head, manifesting him a failing score on his next test. And— the next time he asks you to pass a note back to Kuroo, you’ve decided that you’re going to say no. Yeah, that’ll really teach him a lesson or something.

Nonetheless, to be completely sure, you stare at Kuroo expectantly until he actually reads the message off his phone out loud for you, albeit in a very poorly done impression of the messenger’s voice that you can’t help but snicker at.

“‘Hi. I can’t make it to the library today because something urgent just came up. Sorry!’” Kuroo shakes his head, like he’s completely in disbelief. “How horrible of him, leaving us to suffer in academics all by ourselves after he was the one who invited us in the first place.”

You sigh at that piece of information, and the verbal reaction you provide is a lot more lukewarm than the epic revenge you’re thinking in your head right now. You can only hope that your facial expression doesn’t give it away. “Guess we’ll just have to study without him.”

For the next few hours, it’s peaceful while the two of you begin to work diligently. Occasionally, he’ll nudge your chair with his foot to ask you a question about the class, which, more often than not, ends up spiralling into a tangential conversation about something totally unrelated. It’s not that you intend for that to happen, but Kuroo is a man of many words or whatever, and talking to him is much more interesting than subject you’re studying for anyway. That is, until the feeling of impending doom returns like a bad stomach ache, reminding the both of you to focus.

This study session, it reminds you of all the other times you’ve hung out with Kuroo for group projects in the past. And looking back, you feel so fond of those memories that as much as you hate group projects and you often wish your teacher would stop assigning them, you suppose they aren’t so bad when they’re with Kuroo.

(Okay, then, maybe Yaku ditching the two of you wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. He’s still on your list of inconveniences, though.)

The sun is setting by the time you exit the school building. With the ache settling deep in your bones and your temples, you really think you might disintegrate into dust after this next exam. As you reach the edge of the school grounds, Kuroo offers to walk you home, but you decline because your home isn’t that far anyways. Still, before you both bid your farewells and part ways, you have something on your mind that you can’t help but let curiosity drive you to ask him about.

“Kuroo,” you say, and he turns to you, a tuft of black hair falling gracefully in front of his eyes like he #JustWokeUpLikeThis. The sunset illuminating the side of his face at this moment makes him look really majestic, too, but you try not to think such immoral thoughts about a taken man. Instead, you focus on being nosy because that’s just the kind of person you are, and you feel like you’ve missed some episodes lately.

“Yeah?” Kuroo prompts.

“Are you really… close with Yaku? Like actually?” you ask in a tentative manner, choosing your words carefully. After all, you don’t want to offend him by making it seem as though you can’t tell that they’re dating because of their supposed relationship problems, but recently, it’s been getting harder and harder to believe it. “He kind of looks like he’s planning your assassination every time I pass your notes to him.”

Kuroo lets out the loudest cackle you’ve ever heard, moving his hand as if to ward off your concern.

“Yeah, that’s just how he is. He’s been my number one hater since day one. But,” he smiles, and it speaks confidence for the most part, yet the pink dusting his cheeks shows otherwise, “if you’re so worried, why don’t you balance it out by being my number one lover?”

Oh!

What?!

You attempt to cover up your shock with a nervous laugh, eyes darting around as if there’s a hidden camera somewhere in your surroundings.

“Wow, that— that line’s so good? I’m sure Yaku will love it.” You aren’t sure of the source behind the heat crawling up your neck, but you tell yourself that it must be from how embarrassing you sound right now because it absolutely cannot be from what Kuroo just said. “See you tomorrow!”

Kuroo can only watch in amusement, tilting his head slightly as you scurry away, a bloom of smoke trailing the back of your shoes.

(…Wait a minute.

He frowns. Who will love what?)

“Yaku, you deserve better.”

Upon hearing your words, one of Yaku’s eyebrows jumps toward his hairline while the other remains anchored to his eyelid. He whips around, catching your arm just as you’re about to walk away from him in the middle of the crowded hallway. Gesturing with his head for you to follow him, he leads you to a separate hallway, where the area isn’t as busy and he can hear you talk more clearly.

He crosses his arms. “What do you mean by that?”

You purse your lips, sighing because you’re about to break some bad news to him, and unfortunately, you don’t have any tissues on hand. You suppose offering him your shoulder to cry on could suffice, but the idea is rather unappealing.

Nonetheless, you tell him the truth, “The other day, Kuroo told me he wants me to be his number one lover.”

He nods slowly, not understanding why you’re telling him this. “Okay… and?”

“During gym class today, he said to me, ‘Stop, drop, and roll! Because baby, you’re so hot, you’re on fire’ after I kicked a ball out of bounds.”

Now, Yaku looks scandalised. “Ew. He really said that? To you?”

“Mhm,” you confirm solemnly, and Yaku heaves a grave sigh, as though the weight of all this is too much. You really feel sorry for him, so much that you even move your hand to pat his shoulder as a way to comfort him.

However, for whatever reason unbeknownst to you, Yaku does the same.

The two of you freeze, hand on each other’s opposite shoulders like you’re both trying to console each other.

“Um.”

Eventually, you awkwardly let your hand drop to your side, and Yaku mirrors that action as well.

“Well,” he says, after another beat of painful silence. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll go yell at him later.”

You come to class several minutes earlier than usual during lunch period just to talk to Yaku before Kuroo gets here.

“Hey,” you say, knuckles knocking against the top of his desk to get his attention. “Let’s make things easier for you and Kuroo and switch seats.”

Wide-eyed, Yaku shakes his head. He glances to the door as if a hideous monster (Kuroo) will storm in at any moment before uttering passionately, almost urgently, in a hushed voice, “We can’t.”

You hold back the urge to roll your eyes. Why do these two have to be so damn difficult? It’s already bad enough having to deal with Kuroo and his inability to make eye contact with the right person when he says pick-up lines out of the blue, as well as his tendency to flirt with you sometimes. However, you had hoped that Yaku would at least be somewhat normal, even if he won’t stand up for himself against Kuroo’s disloyal behaviour.

“Why not? The teacher probably won’t notice since we sit kind of far from the front.”

“It’s not that, but I… can’t say.”

“What do you mean you can’t say?” You narrow your eyes at him, glaring at him suspiciously. He’s making, like, zero sense right now. “Are you really that emotionally attached to this desk? It’s just a piece of wood.”

“I’m not,” he says, sounding affronted at the fact that you would even think that. “It’s just, it isn’t really my business to tell you. If I were you, I’d ask Kuroo about it. Okay?”

You blink at him. “Kuroo?”

“Yes.” He throws his hands up in exasperation, looking like a wonky-shaped fork for a split second. “He’ll tell you everything. Just please, leave me alone. Kuroo’s the one that actually likes… talking to you. No offence.”

Okay, a bit rude, but whatever. Leaving the classroom, you set out on a new mission:

Find Kuroo.

“We live in the age of technology. Can’t you just…? You know.” You gesture with your hands to appear as though you’re texting on an imaginary phone. Kuroo raises an eyebrow at this, finding some entertainment in your actions. You would be phenomenal at a game of charades. “Exchanging handwritten letters is sweet and all, but man, it sucks being in the middle of everything.”

A sly grin eases its way onto his face. “Are you jealous?”

“Literally how did you get to that conclusion?” You scowl. “Of course not. But it’s so weird. I asked your boyfriend if we could switch seats to make things easier for all three of us, and he said no, though he wouldn’t tell me why. Instead, he told me to ask you.”

Kuroo seems a bit surprised by that, for some reason. Actually, not just a bit— he’s very surprised, voice even cracking as he asks, “My what?”

“Your—“ You hesitate, unsure. Doesn’t he know who you’re talking about? “You know, Yaku?”

Kuroo stares at you as silence hangs in the air. Like, really stares at you, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing you say right now.

Then, he hunches over in the middle of the empty hallway, shoulders shuddering with laughter as he tries to stabilise himself with his hands on his knees.

You can only watch, confused.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally straightens his posture. Placing a hand over your shoulder and looking you directly in the eyes, he deadpans, “Yaku is not my boyfriend.”

Just like that, everything you’ve ever known about these two against your will comes crashing down, collapsing, and all other synonyms.

“What the hell?” you splutter, and Kuroo bursts into another fit of laughter. “Stop laughing— what do you mean he isn’t your boyfriend? All those notes you wrote to each other, that pick-up line I saw in your first note to him. You’re saying none of it was romantic?”

After several moments, Kuroo manages to catch his breath just enough to explain, “It was romantic, but not for Yaku. Every time, I was asking him for feedback on a pick-up line so I could use them with— with you.”

You furrow your eyebrows, pursing your lips. “So you’re not dating Yaku?”

Vehemently, he shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Not even in my worst nightmares.”

“…And you really don’t have the hots for him?”

“No,” he confirms, moving his hand from your shoulder to gently graze the side of your face. “It’s always been you.”

Damn it. You were so invested.

Still, his hand is warm and soft against your cheek, and there’s that familiar dimple near the left side of his mouth that you always find your gaze gravitating towards whenever he smiles, so maybe you’re okay with this turn of events, as unexpected as it was.

[BONUS: some of the notes exchanged between Kuroo and Yaku]

author’s note: like 80% of fhis was wirtten at 3am and i havent written anything in a whileso i hope this was at least Coherent :) and Totally Not All Over The Place :)

[sethsclearwater]

Congrats on 5k! I’m so proud of you! This blog is everything that one could ask for. For the celebration, just imagine an embry x reader fic where they start off as friends, and she can’t tell that he likes her back. Until he comes to her house one day tells her that he tells her that he likes her back and that it was practically fate (bc the imprinting thing). And then they passionately start to make out due to their feelings being pent up for so long and … 🤭 you can go as deep into the ending (with smut) as you like. But it’s just an idea

so cutie!! i loveeeeeee this!!

...

"you promise paul or jared or whatever one of those guys you've been hanging out with didn't put you up to this?" you asked, gaze flickering between embry's eyes and your driveway as you tried to subtly peer over his shoulder to try and see if paul or whoever was secretly hiding in embry's car and just waiting for you to be the punchline in one of their latest pranks.

embry let out a soft sigh, shaking his head, "promise no one put me up to this," he reassured, holding your gaze for a moment before he looked over his shoulder to try and figure out what exactly you were looking at.

you blushed a deep crimson when you realized he'd noticed, "jus' wanted to make sure they weren't out there recording this or something," you whispered, gaze shifting to the floor as you tried to figure out a way to hide from the relentless embarrassment that seemed to be hijacking your entire system at the moment.

embry frowned, stepping through the doorway of your home so he could close the door behind him, "'s just me, promise," he reassured, sighing when you didn't lift your gaze.

realizing you were definitely beating yourself up about your hesitation over the whole imprinting bomb he just dropped on you, he decided to take matters into his own hands and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly to his chest.

before you could open your mouth to protest, he pressed his lips to your hair, "don't start," he mumbled against your hair, squeezing you as tightly as he could without concern of hurting you.

despite the stress written all over your features, you let out a heavy sigh, dropping your shoulders as you wrapped your arms around his waist as well, just happy to know you finally had your best friend back.

although the two of you had hugged plenty often and even cuddled on more than one occasion, you still had a hard time believing that he saw you the same way you saw him.

"you promise you're not lying?" you mumbled against his chest after a few moments of silence and embry just rolled his eyes despite knowing you couldn't see it.

realizing you definitely weren't going to let up until he figured out a surefire way to prove it to you, he lifted his head from yours, taking one hand to gently prompt you to look up at him, "can i kiss you?" he asked, smiling when he saw the way your eyes changed as your brain short circuited for a good 3 seconds while you tried to figure out how to respond to him.

"can you-" you started, pausing as you tried to figure out the words to say next, your cheeks heating up again as you studied his gaze, "you can," the words had barely left you before embry's lips were on yours.

your fingers tightened against his t-shirt, melting into him as he backed you into the wall, clearly intent on proving to you just how much he meant that you were his imprint.

embry's hands slid down to your hips, gently squeezing them as the two of you melted into each other, "are you-" the words coming out of your mouth were muffled by the way embry's lips were still on yours but he'd managed to hear enough anyway.

"i'll swear to god i'll take you right here and now if that's what it takes to prove to you i'm not lying pretty thing," his voice was breathless as he rested his forehead against yours, his expression not even giving you the slightest indication that he was messing with you.

"right now?" you whispered back, the butterflies in your belly suddenly taking over your brain as you finally let go of the anxiety you had and instead focused on just how badly you wanted him.

"right now," embry reassured, not wasting any time picking you up to take you to your room when you nodded.

[sag3-g]

Batlantern Fic recs

A list of every single the Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne Fics I have read and loved

(the description of all the series by RebeccaAnabelBurrows I did as most don't have any description with them)

Jealousy By theLiterator

| 1/1 | 2,462 | Teen & Up | Batlantern |

Written for the prompt: "Hal/Bruce - Jealousy" on tumblr.

Hal meets Damian Wayne and then they have ice cream.

Waiting for You By roseangel013

| 1/1 | 807 | Teen & Up | Batlantern |

Hal asks Bruce a question and he wants an answer.

you’re the same kind of bad as me By noctiphany

| 1/1 | 1,138 | Teen & Up | Batlantern |

DCU, Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne, “I’m not dying without kissing you.”

(And then they don’t die. And It’s all quite awkward)

Shut Up and Kiss Me By OceanusAporia

| 1/1 | 1,675 | Not Rated | Batlantern |

This was just ridiculous – how fucking messed up was Bruce’s head? Because Hal had thought he had a pretty good idea of what bats where in that belfry after years of being teammates, friends, even and fucking around, but apparently he hadn’t even made it to the surface of things fucked up in Bruce Wayne’s mind.

Bruce and Hal attempt to have a discussion.

Tumblr Prompts By lindenwaverly

| 1/1 | 791 | General | Batlantern |

Posts from prompts I've gotten from tumblr

Off Kilter By kaijulicious

| 1/1 | 784 | General | Batlantern |

Hal's want list at the moment is really simple. Bruce's hand. Specifically he wants that hand in his. And honestly, what the fuck?

Meet the Boyfriend By Barid (Finale)

| 1/1 | 226 | General | Batlantern|

Diana would like to know about the rumored green glowing hero. Bruce would like Hal to not bleed on the floor.

Recruitment By Barid (Finale)

| 1/1 | 385 | Teen & Up | Batlantern |

So how would Hal Jordan be recruited for the Justice League?

No Emerald Light By Finale

| 1/1 | 466 | General | Batlantern |

So where is Hal Jordan...?

for want of twenty bucks By BoyishStutter

| 1/1 | 366 | General | Batlantern |

"The question was not the problem, the real problem was the men who answered said question. Key word being: men. As in, more than one."

Hal asks a question with surprising results.

arm your fears like soldiers (and slay them) By BoyishStutter

| 1/1 | 759 | Teen & Up | Batlantern |

Bruce likes to be prepared. Hal understands.

Wtf is a "Present" and where do I find one By almondrose

| 1/1 | 750 | General | Batlantern |

It's Hal's birthday, and Bruce wants to get him something special.

you know what they say about roses By moneystcroix

| 1/1 | 1,285 | General | Batlantern |

It's Valentine's Day. Cheesy poems, chocolates, and teddy bears are Hal's world. Diamonds, roses, and private beach vacations are Bruce's.

What's their middle ground?

Poisoning Pigeons in the Park By Meduseld

| 1/1 | 439 | General | Batlantern |

"Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

Baby Daddy By Meduseld

| 1/1 | 580 | Teen & Up | Batlantern |

"It could be worse."

when the world is against you By Pomfry

| 1/1 | 834 | Not Rated | Batlantern |

“Bruce, today is your big day,’ Dick says teasingly, a mischievous grin on his face that makes Bruce’s stomach drop to his shoes.

“What did you do,” he asks, not even wanting to know.

Dick only cackles and launches himself into the air, grabbing onto the chandelier in a move that never fails to make Bruce’s heart stop for a second.

“Dick, what did you do?”

Don't Throw Me Away By rakketyrivertam

| 1/1 | 1,362 | Teen & Up | Batlantern |

Hal wasn't blind, he noticed how much Clark made Bruce smile.

don't need the night By Pomfry

| 1/1 | 375 | Teen & Up | Batlantern |

“I would die for you."

"Please don’t."

and with one kiss By Pomfry

| 1/1 | 413 | Teen & Up | Batlantern |

“Unfortunately, you’re my favorite person on this planet."

“Why, thank you."

make this place your home By Pomfry

| 1/1 | 1,360 | Teen & Up | Batlantern |

Hal can’t wait to meet his soulmate. He’s had little flowers sprouting from his knees and knuckles for as long as he can remember, dark blue flowers that cover his entire hand. His brother jokes that they must have a big personality, and Hal can’t help but agree. He hopes they do, actually. He’s been informed many a time by his teachers that he’s a handful, and he thinks that his soulmate will have to have a big personality to compare to that.

Undeniable By DrewWrites

| 1/1 | 1,317 | Teen & Up | Batlantern |

It makes sense when Bruce Wayne is seen kissing the Green Lantern.

Well, it makes sense in the way that anything else makes sense in Gotham City.

Baby Steps By Barid (Finale)

| 1/1 | 1,964 | General | Batlantern |

Sometimes you need to take baby steps to figure out how to make a move

The Silent Language By McJones

| 1/1 | 1,949 | General | Batlantern |

Inspired by a convo with @ allhailthewatcher: Bruce I-don’t-need-to-speak-this-vague-grunt-expresses-all Wayne can communicate quite fluently with body language and nonverbal cues. The (Batfam) have whole conversations with their shoulders. Alfred occasionally laughs at a particularly well-timed eyebrow twitch and the others get so distressed and baffled. Well, I didn’t base this in the manor like suggested but did enjoy playing in the sandbox.

Fake News By ViiA01

| 1/1 | 3,876 | Mature | Batlantern |

In which Oliver is offended that Hal picked Bruce to be his Sugar Daddy instead.

Or... something.

what happens in vegas By noctelle

| 1/1 | 2,211 | Teen & Up | Batlantern |

The one where Bruce and Hal get drunk and wake up married in Vegas.

Positive Mishap By KR_RoseBlock

| 1/1 | 1,025 | Teen & Up | Batlantern |

“Yeah, hold on. Let me just grab my– Oh my god.” A voice cut through the room, followed by a gasp of another. “Oh my fucking– Oh my god.”

Hal and Bruce jumped apart in surprise and embarrassment, facing the intruders with wide eyes and flushed faces. Oliver and Barry were standing in the doorway with similar expressions.

“Uhhh…” Barry seemed at a loss for words for once. Oh, gods they broke him.

or: Batlantern gets found out in the best way possible

You burned my toaster! By ZayRay030

| 1/1 | 1,470 | Teen & Up | Batlantern |

“Morning.” Bruce greeted. “These look good. Thought you would burn them.” Bruce added. Hal shot him a disbelieving look before smirking slightly.

“Oh, like how you almost burned my apartment down by making toast?” Hal asked sarcastically and smirked when he saw the embarrassed look on Bruce's face. He heard a snort and when he turned around he saw Jason covering his mouth.

“I did not almost-” Bruce tried to protest but Hal cut him off again and he revelled in the surprised looks on Bruce's kids faces.

“Please, spooky. There were a bunch of complaints and someone asked me if everything was okay because they had thought if I fell asleep while making myself breakfast.” Hal said, smirking and leaning against the table.

OR

Hal decided to make breakfast and bickers with Bruce. He's children watch shocked as their father figure in slammed. Maybe they judged Hal to harshly. After all those pancakes or amazing.

Clothes (A piece of you) By flaminpumpkin

| 1/1 | 895 | General | Batlantern |

Hal keeps stealing his turtlenecks and Bruce doesn't understand why. Until Hal has to leave.

8-Bit Quality Time By The_Shy_One

| 1/1 | 1,924 | General | Batlantern |

From a tired mistake, Hal ends up spending time with Damian.

A Study in Soulbonds (Unrelated Works) By RebeccaAnabelBurrows

| 33 works | 173,364 | Incomplete | Batlantern |

A series of fics where Hal & Bruce are soulmates, all Fics have different ways the soulbonds work

A Study in Secret Marriage Reveals (Unrelated Works) By RebeccaAnabelBurrows

| 22 Works | 81,776 | Incomplete | Batlantern |

A series of fics where Hal & Bruce are secretly in a relationship and Married and how it gets revealed

The Bruce Ring Verse By RebeccaAnabelBurrows

| 2 Works | 13,522 | Complete | Batlantern |

Starts off with them being in denial about being on dates to Hal getting a concussion and waking up confused where his ring is, and it's not the lantern ring he's on about.

5+1 By RebeccaAnabelBurrows

| 6 Works | 28,928 | Incomplete | Batlantern |

A series of 5+1 starring Hal and Bruce's Relationship

Last updated: January 19th 2025

[glowingbadger]

Could you do office sex with claude? Love the way you write his character!

Ohh that's an intriguing one. Who let Claude be the boss of anything in a corporate setting is one question, but we don't have to sweat the particulars when there's smut to be had.

THAT SAID, can y'all believe this is the first smut fic I'm posting in like... actual months lmao. I needed to do a quick and simple drabble to get my brain working on writing again, I think- since the other things I'm working on are much longer fics that are taking a lot out of me. Anyway, I had fun with it, so hopefully it's a fun read :3

CWs for office romance and sort of fucking your boss!

Claude (FE3H) x Reader (AFAB)

Kink prompts list #5 - Office Sex

NSFW 18+

You're the last one still lingering at the office today- or, second-to-last, and you'd made sure of it. The door to Claude's newly bestowed and highly coveted corner office shuts quietly behind you as you enter and take stock of the place. It's still fairly sparse, with only his work laptop and a few essential files having been moved here from his old desk. He stands facing the window opposite from you, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the suit jacket slung over his shoulder. Those trousers and white dress shirt fit him almost too well, and it's impossible not to notice with him silhouetted against the lowering sun over the city outside. He glances back at you as you step toward his desk, but you're the one to speak first,

"Congrats on the promotion, Mr. Riegan," he doesn't miss the sarcasm in your tone, and it shows. His lips slant into a smile as he turns toward you, dropping the jacket across his chair on the way.

"You sound thrilled," he says as he rounds the desk toward you, "Let me guess- you were gunning for the position yourself."

"Maybe," you say with a shrug and a smile, "Though to be honest, I'm not sure I'd want to get bogged down in this department anyway. Been thinking of a transfer."

Claude's arms are crossed as he leans back against his desk. His posture is at-ease, relaxed, but you know him well enough to recognize the more serious tenor of his voice as he speaks.

"Seriously? First time I'm hearing about that. Care to fill me in?"

"Claude, in case you haven't realized it yet, this promotion technically makes you my boss," you're facing him, and frankly, closer than you should be- but you struggle to meet those brilliant green eyes as they silently pry at your defenses. You'd think you'd be used to it by now.

"On paper, sure," his hand trails around the small of your back, his arm at your waist tugging you towards him. You're between his legs and flush against his warm frame, and at last, you rally yourself and meet his gaze.

"So... we really shouldn't be doing this anymore. We shouldn't have been doing it to begin with," you sigh in your frustration, but despite your words, your heart is already racing at the feeling of his body near yours. At first, Claude doesn't respond. His arm holds you more firmly to him, and gently, he brings his lips to the side of your neck. You feel them brush you gently, the heat of his breath seeming to sink beneath your skin and warm through your entire body.

"Do you want to stop?"

You know he means the question sincerely- he'd stop if you asked, you know this. But the low rumble of his voice and the graze of his lips is setting your heart pounding up through your chest, and your thoughts are so scrambled that your answer rushes past your lips before you can consider it,

"Of course not," your voice is soft but certain, and you feel Claude's lips smiling as he kisses down your throat.

"Good answer."

He stands upright and, without warning, turns you around to face his desk. His body presses to your back, and already you can feel the pressure of his hardening cock against your ass behind layers of clothing. You bite back your voice, not sure if you're holding in a gasp of surprise or a moan of pleasure. Soon, his hands are running up your hips and along your waist, and his lips are teasing the shell of your ear,

"How about this... I'll promise to behave during work hours, and you promise that you'll come see me after work any day you like so we can... review your performance."

"Claude..." you can't help the breathy, heated tone of your voice, and you find yourself arching your body against him, your hand coming to cradle his face while the other steadies you against his desk. His hands cup your breasts, savoring the feeling of them in his palms, and you know he can feel the way you're surrendering to him already.

"Don't ask for that transfer, Y/N," he murmurs as his hands fondle and caress you all over, "Please," there's a disarming sincerity in his voice for a moment, "You know as well as I do that I can't do this job without you. You're the only reason I've gotten this far- you're brilliant," he kisses the corner of your jaw, "and I need you."

It takes an agonizing extra few moments to put your thoughts together enough to respond. Your heart is fluttering erratically, and the rest of your body isn't making it any easier to think straight. His hands feel far too good holding you to him, adoring your curves while his cock twitches conspicuously against your ass.

"You... you really think you can behave during work?" you say at last, "The stakes are way higher if we get caught now."

"Hmm," he places a firmer kiss to the top of your neck, just below your ear, and you know he hears the stifled whimper that sneaks past your lips, "You know, come to think of it, I'm not sure. Will you have to punish me if I'm bad?"

You're about to tease him back- or at least try to -but then his teeth nip at your ear as one skillful hand travels down the front of your body, and whatever clever quip you'd had in mind evaporates. With his hips very subtly pressing his erect length against your body, he sneaks the hem of your skirt upward, his hand trailing up your leg along the way. You whine his name as his fingers dip between the plush softness of your thighs, stroking across your dampened panties.

"Damn, you're wet," he says in a heated whisper, "Maybe you're the one we have to worry about misbehaving."

"Damnit Claude, fuck me already," the words rush out without a thought, and now you find yourself pressing yourself back against him, your fingers dragging up the side of his neck and into thick brown hair. He utters a raw and lustful groan against your neck, and now his kisses are deeper, more forceful, and his fingers are rubbing against your clit from atop your soaked panties.

"That should be 'Mr. Riegan' now, shouldn't it? You said it before- I kinda liked it."

As he speaks now, he's unbuckling his belt and opening the front of his trousers. He pushes you forward gently, just a bit, and tugs your panties down your thighs. Before you can answer him, you feel the hot, stiff cock head press between your lower lips, and you let out a needy whimper.

"P- Please..." you arch yourself against him, spreading your legs wider, desperate to feel him enter you.

"Come on, you know what I want from you," you can hear his smirk in his voice, but where ordinarily you'd match his attitude with some of your own, right now you can't be bothered to fight back. He strokes the tip of his member along your slit, letting your overflowing arousal coat him as he rubs against your entrance, but refuses to give you what you need.

"Please, Mr. Riegan..!"

"That's it, good job Y/N," Claude groans once more as he begins to drive his length into you, his size stretching you around him as he pushes deeper and deeper until your lower body is flush against his hips. With an appreciative hum, he runs a hand over your backside, fondling and groping it against him, perhaps admiring where he can see your tight cunt clinging around the thick base of his cock. His hips sway just a little, rubbing himself into you in a way that makes your knees tremble. Then, his hand slaps against your ass- not hard enough to hurt, but certainly hard enough to enjoy watching the way it jiggles against him.

Slowly, he draws his hips back, then plunges back into you, forcing a gasping moan from your lips. He begins to buck his hips, quickly establishing a firm and steady rhythm that has you clinging to his desk. His hands at your hips guide you back against him with each thrust, ensuring that you feel every single inch of him as he fills your body and empties your thoughts; yet through the daze of pleasure, you manage to focus enough to hear him say,

"Mmgh, having my own office will be nice. Can't wait to spoil my favorite employee every single day..."

[bagofshinyrocks]

Government name vs Military callsign

Prompt: What scares them worse? Addressing them by their full government name, or addressing them by their military callsign?

Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: none

John Price

Government name.

Calling him Captain or Skipper just ends with him sauntering to where ever you are and ask (in an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice) what you wanted. Like a cat pretending it can’t hear the urgency in your tone when you say to get off the counter.

“If you want me to ‘shake a leg’, call my name, luvie.”

Now if you holler “Jonathan Price”, he’ll drop something. Either the newspaper in his hands, or his heart into his stomach. He sure as hell moves his ass with a purpose, and he’s peering into the room with an apology on his lips.

“Yes, luv? What’s wrong, poppet?”

“Lift the other end of the couch, would you?”

He does, and you shimmy it further back in the room. “Anything else I can do, love o’ my life?” He���s hovering, and gently coaxing you into his arms. Gauging how mad you were at him. You curled into him and kissed his chin. Then stepped away with a pat to his chest.

“No, sweetheart, just wanted you to shake a leg is all.”

When he remembers your previous conversation, he groans and tells you to fuck off.

Simon Riley

Military callsign.

When you two are alone, and he’s already given you permission to call him Simon, don’t call him Ghost. When you say that word, he assumes one of his mates are at the door or on the phone, and goes from Simon to Ghost. Stalks into the room with narrowed eyes, only to find you in the kitchen. By yourself.

“Ghost, you want a sandwich too? Turkey and cheese.”

“Fuck you callin’ me that for?” 

Once he sees you’re alone, he swoops in and wraps around you like a hoodie. A firm kiss to your ear, then your cheek, then spun you around. Back pressed to the counter top. Settles his face right close to yours.

“We playin’ games now?” You didn’t want to upset him, so you pressed a kiss to his nose. His grumpy look faded a bit.

“Sorry, baby.” Arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders. And your fingers scratch his scalp. Another kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry for playing games with you. Simon Riley.”

Hearing his name on your lips finally cracked, and he gave you a smile. A little scar on the upper lip. You gave it a kiss, and then pressed a kiss to his lips. 

A quick surge forward, and you only just had time to shove aside the things behind you before you found yourself on the countertop.

Kyle Garrick

Government name.

He doesn’t mind being called Gaz, and you’ll use Kyle and Gaz interchangeably. Doesn’t even mind if you use “Kyle” or “honey” in front of his squadmates. Though “Kylie” he does have some displeasure with.

“I’ll have you know, Soap is still calling me Kylie, you asshole.”

Call him ‘Garrick’, and he knows that you are pretending to be mad at him. He slinks over and rubs his face against your cheek. He’s too cute for you to stay mad.

If you shout “Kyle Garrick”, he comes running. He could have sworn that he put his clothes in the hamper. And did the dishes. And taken out the recycling. Damn, what was it that he forgot?

“Kyle Ga-”

“Yes, dear!” Shit, he didn’t mean to ‘yes, dear’ you. “Yes, my dear, I’m right here.”

You pause your laundry folding and summon him with a crook of your finger. Once he’s close enough, you tap your lip with the same finger. “I need a kiss.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “God damn you.” He squishes your face in his hands and gave you a quick, firm kiss. “Don’t stress me out like that. Thought you were mad.”

“Give me another kiss, or I will be.”

He rapid fire kissed your mouth, chin, and cheeks, then gave you a smack on the ass before returning to the living room. 

“In my own fucking home,” he muttered.

John MacTavish

Military callsign.

He’s got some thick skin. And he’s had his name shouted angrily many a time. He would all but skip into the room with a big smile on his face. The only people who shouted that name (and wore out the scare-factor on it) were his family members. Shouting “John MacTavish” meant you loved him. You were also mad at him, but you loved him. That was more important. Even with your scowl and the gross pile of garbage he kept forgetting to take out. You loved him.

Now shouting his callsign reminded him of his superior officers.

“SOAP!”

Shit shit shit. He put down his beer and ran from the garage to the backyard. Leg brace over his sweats, low cut muscle shirt that you also wolf-whistle at when he wears. You were only weeding the garden boxes.

“JOHNNY!”

“I’m here, bonnie,” he hollered, rounding the corner. You were sitting in the dirt, a tidy pile of weeds and dead plant bits next to you.

“C’mere, c’mere.”

He leaned down next to you, hand on your shoulder and good knee on the ground. “Wassit?”

You pointed to the leaf in your hand. “A caterpillar, Johnny. An itsy-bitsy caterpillar.”

He sighed heavily and kissed your shoulder. “Bonnie, I thought something was wrong.”

“Hm?” You spared him a glance. “What are you talking about, bubba?”

“You called me Soap.”

“Did I? Didn’t mean to spook you, loverboy.” You gave him an apologetic kiss on the lips. “Just wanted you to see the caterpillar before he wiggled off.”

Posted: 2023 Dec 10

[mephisto-reporting]

Husband?

About: How does he react when you accidentally call him your 'husband'? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

RAFAYEL

The evening was going smoother than expected, considering Rafayel had dragged you along to one of his many gallery showings. He had made a big deal about how you should be the one showing off his work to the public, claiming he didn’t want to deal with the “art-snobs." Yet, the second you both arrived, he quickly preoccupied himself on his phone, leaving you to handle most of the small talk.

One of the visitors, a curious older woman, was admiring a painting of his, a chaotic burst of color with soft hints of golden light. You were discussing Rafayel’s "creative process" (whatever that was—he hadn't told you much before retreating to his phone), when she asked how long you’d been working with him.

“Oh, it’s been a while now. It’s honestly amazing seeing him grow like this—my husb—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing the slip just as it left your mouth.

"Husband?"

The word hung in the air for barely a second before you felt Rafayel’s presence shift. His head shot up like a bolt of lightning, his playful, cunning eyes locking onto yours. You could practically feel his grin before you even dared to glance over. You didn’t even need to turn around to feel his gaze burning into you, practically shouting, Oh? Husband, you say?

“Husband, huh?” Rafayel drawled, pocketing his phone and sauntering toward you with that signature smirk of his. “I didn’t realize we were making things official tonight. If I’d known, I’d have worn something even more dazzling.”

You flushed, attempting to stammer out a correction, but he was far too pleased to let you off the hook that easily. He leaned casually against the gallery wall, one arm crossing his chest as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

He gently took your hand in his, his dramatic flair dialed up to maximum as he pressed an exaggerated kiss to your knuckles, clearly relishing the moment. "I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who wouldn’t want to marry someone as charming as me?"

The visitor chuckled awkwardly, clearly not sure whether to stay or go, but Rafayel was already having way too much fun. “Of course, as your loving husband,” he continued, drawing out the word in a singsong voice, “it’s only fitting that I’m showered with even more attention now, isn’t it? I expect lots of praise, darling. I mean, just look at me." He struck a faux thought-provoking pose, tilting his head and flipping a lock of his perfectly tousled hair.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but at the same time, his antics made you laugh. “I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his finger playfully. “You can’t take it back now. The word’s out, Miss Bodyguard. You’ve called me your husband. That means you’re stuck with me. Forever.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Does this mean I get to cheat at board games forever too?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you playfully swatted at his shoulder. “As if you needed a reason to cheat more!”

Rafayel laughed, that familiar bratty grin plastered across his face. “Well, if I’m your husband now, I think it’s only fair I get first dibs on everything. Cards, claw machines—oh, and don’t forget, I demand the comfiest seat when we binge-watch our shows.”

Despite his teasing, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. You could see the genuine delight he took in your slip-up, how pleased he was at the thought, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dramatically, playing along. “But don’t expect me to let you win at everything, ‘husband.’”

Rafayel beamed, and for a moment, that bratty, carefree mask of his slipped, just a little. He tugged you closer, his voice softening as he murmured, “Deal.” Then, just as quickly, he switched back to his usual, cheeky self. “Now, let’s go, wife. You’re required to be by my side while I survive this boring night. ”

Shaking your head, you laughed, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re impossible.”

The woman, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile, laughed. “You two make quite the pair.”

“Oh, we do, don’t we?” Rafayel quipped before lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, calling me that in front of witnesses. Now they’ll all expect a wedding invitation.”

Your face burned as you tried to shush him, but he was loving every second of it. He tilted his head, his hair catching the light as his smile softened into something more genuine, the bratty exterior fading just a bit. “Still… I can’t say I hate the sound of it,” he murmured, brushing a finger lightly under your chin before pulling back with a playful wink. “I might just get used to hearing it.”

You could only manage a huff of exasperation, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter at the way his teasing had just a hint of sincerity behind it.

Rafayel, always dramatic, and yet somehow, just when you least expected it, a little bit sweet.

ZAYNE

You and Zayne were in the middle of your usual weekly grocery run, efficiently dividing and conquering your list to save time. He’d taken off towards the produce section while you headed for the rice aisle. As you browsed the different varieties, a middle-aged man beside you struggled with lifting a heavy bag of rice.

"Need a hand?" you asked, stepping in to help. The man smiled gratefully as you hoisted the bag into his cart with ease.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, rubbing his wrist. "My arthritis is flaring up today. Getting old’s no fun."

You offered him a sympathetic smile. “No problem at all. My husband’s a doctor, actually. I’m sure he’d tell you to take it easy on that wrist."

The man nodded in agreement, offering you one last thanks before heading off. You turned back to your cart, completely unaware of the word you had just let slip—husband—or the fact that Zayne had returned in time to hear it.

You felt him step up behind you, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. When you finally glanced over, he was standing there, hands in his pockets, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Husband, hmm?" he said softly, his tone more curious than teasing. "That's... new."

You froze for a second, eyes widening as you realized what you’d said.  You opened your mouth, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “I didn’t— I mean, it just—slipped out. We’re not actually—I mean, obviously, we’re not—” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of backpedaling was helping.

Zayne didn’t seem in a rush to let you off the hook. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with an ease that made your heart stutter. “You know,” he said, voice as calm as ever, “if this is your way of bringing it up, there are smoother ways to do it.” His teasing was subtle, barely perceptible if you didn’t know him well, but it was there in the gentle tug of his smile.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Zayne, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zayne, ever level-headed, merely took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not like I mind the idea.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked up at him in surprise. There was a softness in his usually stoic gaze, the kind that made your stomach flip. He continued, his voice measured but affectionate, “Seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it? My parents have been asking me when I’m going to take that step with you for a while now.”

His calm tone made the statement feel both casual and monumental at the same time. “Wait, your parents…?” you started, blinking as your brain processed this new information.

“Mhm,” Zayne replied, still holding your hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve been pretty vocal about it, actually. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

The right moment. Those words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was saying. He was serious—calm and casual, as always, but serious. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Zayne in that grocery aisle, hands linked, talking about a future you hadn’t even realized you both wanted.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” he added, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything unless we both agreed.”

You stared at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face despite the initial shock. “You’re really suggesting this now? In the middle of a grocery store?”

Zayne smirked, his usual pragmatic self. “Well, we’re already talking about it. Might as well make use of the time.” He glanced down at your joined hands, his tone softening again. “Besides, I think it’s worth discussing what our future looks like, don’t you?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to make you feel grounded, no matter how your emotions were spinning. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand gently. “I think it’s definitely worth talking about.”

Zayne leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple in a rare public display of affection. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet kind of affection that made your chest tighten. “We’ll talk more later.”

He pulled away just as smoothly, picking up the cart with a practiced ease, as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you start planning your future together. His eyes twinkled, a subtle tease hiding behind that usual calm exterior of his.

“And for the record,” he added, as the two of you moved on to the next aisle, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me ‘husband’ again.”

Your cheeks heated again, but this time, you didn’t bother trying to hide your smile. “Guess you’ll have to earn it first, doctor.”

Zayne chuckled softly, that familiar, grounded confidence in his voice. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

SYLUS

The desert sun was relentless, and you could feel its heat pressing down on you as you stood beside Sylus, waiting to be seated inside the restaurant. He had dragged you out of Linkon on one of his mysterious ventures—no explanation, no warning, just the two of you thrust into the desert with little more than his cryptic directions. And while Sylus might have thrived in the N109 Zone's shadowy world, he was decidedly out of place here in the glaring sunlight,already starting to show hints of discomfort.

You glanced over at him, squinting slightly under the bright light. His expression was carefully controlled as always, but you noticed how his hand twitched subtly as if annoyed by the heat. The two of you had been waiting to be seated inside for a while now, and you decided it was time to speed things up.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, you waved her over, putting on your best expression of concern. “Excuse me, my husband and I were hoping to be seated inside. I’m feeling a little faint under the harsh sun,” you said smoothly, the lie of you feeling faint rolling off your tongue with ease.

The word husband had slipped out so naturally, you didn’t even realize your mistake until the waitress nodded sympathetically and promised to get you a table indoors right away. As she walked off, you felt a cold gaze slide over you, and you turned to see Sylus staring down at you, one brow raised, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face.

“Husband?” His voice was smooth, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “Did I miss a wedding, wife?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—" You started to stammer, heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could backtrack any further, Sylus’ arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning in just close enough for you to catch the scent of the desert air still clinging to his clothes. His lips ghosted near your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Maybe this is a sign I should make it official.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you tried to keep your composure. “Official?” you echoed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sylus’ smirk widened, his amber eyes gleaming in the sun. “Oh? Cat got your tongue, Sweetie?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he let his fingers trace a light circle on your hip. “You seemed so sure a moment ago, wife. But now? Speechless.”

You blinked, trying to gather your wits, but the sheer cockiness in his tone was making it hard to think straight. “I…I was just…helping us get a table,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away from his grip, but his hold only tightened.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he drawled, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “But now that you’ve set the bar so high, don’t tell me you’re going to back out on me. After all, you made quite the declaration back there.”

“I wasn’t—” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you regained a sliver of your usual confidence. “You know it was a slip-up, Sylus. Don’t start getting ideas.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Ideas? Sweetie, I live for ideas.” His grip loosened just enough to let you step back, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t about to let you wriggle out of this one easily. “But let’s be honest, you didn’t hate it. Calling me your husband.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, you managed to meet his gaze without faltering. “I didn’t hate it,” you admitted, folding your arms, “but don’t go thinking you’ve won. I’m not about to sign any papers just because you liked hearing it.”

Sylus tilted his head, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll see about that, kitten” he said, the threat—or promise—hanging in the air between you as the waitress returned to guide you inside.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Please, Sylus. You couldn’t handle being married to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle you just fine, sweetheart. You’re the one who might need to keep up.”

You shot back, “Keep up? I’d be carrying you the whole way.”

“Careful, Sweetie. That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.” He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours again. “Now that’s a tempting thought.”

“Tempting? Try exhausting,” you quipped.

As you walked beside him, you felt his arm brush against yours, and the sensation lingered far longer than it should have. Sylus, of course, said nothing, though the smug expression never quite left his face.

This was clearly far from over. And judging by the glint in his eye, Sylus was going to make sure you never forgot your little slip-up.

XAVIER

The café was quiet, filled with the soft murmur of patrons and the comforting smell of fresh pastries. You and Xavier had settled in for a peaceful afternoon, your table already adorned with a delightful array of treats. He had requested a simple drink—no whipped cream. The barista returned, placing his drink in front of him with an impressive mountain of whipped cream on top. Xavier, as calm and indifferent as ever, simply blinked at it, showing no signs of complaint. He wasn’t going to say a word about it, but that didn’t mean you were going to let it slide.

Excusing yourself, you raised a hand and called over a passing staff member. “Excuse me,” you began, with a polite smile. “My husband asked for no whipped cream on his drink, but it looks like there’s some here by mistake. Would it be alright for us to get it changed?”

The words tumbled out so smoothly that you didn’t even realize your slip-up until the staff member nodded apologetically and hurried back to fix the order. It was only when you turned back around that you saw Xavier sitting there, looking unusually... stunned.

He was blinking slowly at you, his expression softened by a hint of confusion and—was that amusement? “Husband?” he repeated, his soft voice barely more than a murmur.

Your face flushed as you fumbled for an explanation. “Oh, no, wait—! I didn’t mean—” You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “That just slipped out! I meant to say…uh my boyfriend? Partner? Date? Not—well, not husband, obviously…”

Xavier continued to blink, his face now showing just a little more expression than usual. The faintest curl of a smile played on his lips, and he tilted his head, considering your words. “I must’ve missed that chapter in the 'Guide to a Healthy Relationship,'” he said in that calm, unruffled way of his. “I didn’t know we’d moved on to the husband-and-wife stage.”

You groaned inwardly, burying your face in your hands. “I swear, it was an accident. Just ignore what I said.”

But Xavier was clearly in no mood to let it go. “So, dear wife,” he continued, completely unfazed by your protests, “do you think we’ll have matching mugs in our future? Maybe get a nice house, with a small garden and a picket fence?”

You shot him a playful glare, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Very funny,” you muttered, though your lips were twitching at the corners, betraying your amusement.

“I think it has a nice ring to it,” Xavier said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this far more than you expected. “I wonder how long it would take for people in the association to start sending us wedding gifts. Or perhaps they'd just send weapons... you know, as a gesture of goodwill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think wedding gifts are really their style, Xavier.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you did call me your husband in public. Shouldn’t we at least play the part now?”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t resist playing along with his ridiculousness. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “But just so you know, dear husband, you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

Xavier chuckled softly, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. “As long as you take care of meals. A fair trade.”

You were about to retort when the waitress returned with Xavier’s newly corrected drink—this time, free of whipped cream. She set it down with a smile, glancing between the two of you as if she’d picked up on the playful atmosphere. “Here you go,” she said. “No whipped cream this time, sir.”

Xavier’s eyes glinted as he thanked her with a nod, and after she left, he looked back at you with a satisfied expression. “See? Husband perks,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice gentler now. He took your hand under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But... thank you,” he added after a beat, his voice softer and more sincere. “For speaking up for me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the gratitude in his tone. “Of course,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s what wives do, right?”

Xavier let out a soft laugh. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, with his hand in yours and the gentle teasing in the air, it was easy to forget the world outside the café. Just the two of you, playing pretend—but maybe, just maybe, something more.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! Could you please write something for Spencer where r is used to men being like really loud and rough and all that (maybe bc of her father or smth) and just her getting used to how gentle Spencer is and almost thinking it’s too good to be true?

Thank you for requesting angel <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 905 words

It happens when you’re still half asleep. You fumble for your phone on Spencer’s nightstand, your alarm chiming, and knock a picture frame off instead. You’re fully awake by the time you hear the sound of glass shattering against the floor. 

You mumble a curse. Spencer hums questioningly into his pillow. 

You get down from the bed, managing to step over the glass, but you’re not thinking clearly enough. When you sink onto your knees, little shards prick the skin. You pick the frame up carefully. It’s a picture of Spencer and his mom. An old one, of her chasing a three or four-year-old Spencer around someone’s yard. They’re both laughing, her arms outstretched towards him and his face turning to look over his shoulder. It’s obviously a sentimental photo. 

Your cursing intensifies, though you keep it internal now. You feel awful. 

Spencer’s head appears over the edge of the bed as you’re scraping the glass into a pile. His eyes are half-open, expression still weighted with drowsiness. 

“What happened?” he asks. 

There’s no accusation in his tone, but you feel suddenly teary. You haven’t fought with Spencer yet, and you weren’t expecting to be yelled at first thing this morning. You suppose you’ve earned it, though. 

“Spence, I’m so sorry.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“I—I knocked over your picture. The frame broke. I feel awful, I’ll get you a new one o—or I can replace the glass if the frame is important to you.” 

“What?” Spencer blinks, brows furrowed as though he’s having trouble grasping this. “No, it’s—stop. Don’t do that.” 

You still, looking up at him hesitantly with your hands cupped around the glass pile. “What do you want me to do?” 

“You can’t clean glass up with your hands.” He shuffles his way out from under the covers, taking a big step over the class to stand behind you. His hands wrap around your elbows. “Get away from there.” 

His tone conveys some upset, but not nearly as much as you were prepared for. And his grip on your arms is gentle. You can’t make sense of it. 

You let him guide you into the bathroom, sitting up on the counter when he prompts you. Spencer takes your hands in his, looking them over and brushing his fingers lightly across your palms before determining there’s no glass in them. His eyes skim you over. When they land on your knees, his expression pinches. 

“Why did you do this?” You expect him to grasp your knee roughly, but his fingers wrap around it with care, thumb rubbing over the soft underside as though to soothe you. 

“I wasn’t thinking,” you say softly. “I feel so bad about the picture with your mom, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Spencer sounds surprised. His eyes flit up to yours, soft brown, curious. “I can get a new frame. You didn’t need to hurt yourself.” 

“Well, I didn’t do it on purpose.” Your voice drops to a murmur as Spencer bends down, opening a drawer to take out first aid supplies. 

He pulls each tiny piece of glass from your knees with heart-aching care. One hand stays on the back of whichever knee he’s working on, to steady him and to comfort you, and it’s a slow, attentive, tender process. Gradually, a realization seeps into you. 

Spencer isn’t going to blow up at you. Maybe someday, but not about this, not over just anything. You’re not sure how you could have been so expectant of someone who’s been nothing but kind and gentle with you turning harsh and forceful at the first upset. 

You don’t even wince as Spencer cleans up your knees. He’s careful to give you no reason to, every touch considerate and sweet. He straightens after smoothing bandages over the cuts, still holding your lower thighs in his hands. 

“That wasn’t a very nice way to wake up,” he says. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say, but you hold your arms out for a hug anyway. 

Spencer’s happy to oblige you, his hips fitting between your legs and palms sliding across your back. He smells like sleep. You hook your chin over his shoulder, contentment filling your belly like warm honey. 

“You seemed upset,” he murmurs, a question if you choose to answer it. 

“I was nervous,” you admit. “I thought you’d be mad.” 

“For knocking the frame over?”

“Mhm. I still feel really bad.” 

Spencer draws a line between your shoulders. “Don’t feel bad. You didn’t do it on purpose.” 

You hum. “You’re a lot less loud than most guys, do you know that?” 

He pauses. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No.” You pull away from him, cradling his face in your hand. “I’m just not used to it, is all. I keep expecting you to yell at me, but that doesn’t seem like it’s really your thing.” 

“I guess I don’t think of it as my thing,” Spencer agrees, mouth curving as he repeats your words. “My mom says I was always a quiet kid. I guess I just never thought yelling would get me anywhere.” 

“Don’t start.” You grin, and his cheek dimples under your palm. “I like you like this.” 

“Okay, I’ll try not to.” He tilts his face into your touch. His hands drop back to your knees, skimming down the unharmed sides next to the bandages. “And you shouldn’t get angry at yourself on my behalf anymore, either.”

[augustinewrites]

“sunflowers or peonies?”

“awe, nanami! i’m flattered—”

“they’re not for you,” nanami says flatly. “you can buy your own.”

shoko squints down at the man lying on her exam table, arm held up and behind his head. “i’m quite literally stitching you back together, you know.”

the blond thinks bitterly on what had landed him in her infirmary in the first place, injured and likely having to reschedule dinner tonight. it’s already well past the time he’d planned on picking you up, and the table he’d reserved at the new restaurant in roppongi has likely been given away.

he’s dreading calling to tell you, his heart already twinging at the idea of letting you down.

shoko stitches him up neatly, cleaning and covering it up with a layer of bandages. she offers him a hand to help him sit up, but he bypasses it to plant his palm against the cot, pushing himself up with a groan.

she rolls her eyes, peeling her gloves off and pulling her mask down, tossing them both into the trash. “clean and dress it at least twice a day. no sudden movements of strenuous activity for at least a week. if you ruin my work, i’ll put you on bedrest.”

she digs through her cabinets as he awkwardly pulls his shirt back on. his mind drifts to you as he does so. he’d lost his phone in the fight, so he hadn’t been able to tell you about cancelling.

he wonders if the pout on your lips is painted your lips that shade of red you’d been wearing when he’d first met you. wonders if you’re waiting wearing the dress he’d gifted you last week.

he’d really wanted to see you in that dress.

nanami sighs heavily as he does up the buttons, prompting shoko to glance over her shoulder at him.

“what’s wrong with you?” she asks, setting a small bottle of painkillers on the tray table next to him.

“i’m missing an important dinner,” he grumbles, wondering if just a bundle sunflowers or peonies from the small stall outside is enough. he should order you a proper bouquet from a shop. perhaps he can also book you a massage or—

a knock at the door interrupts his spiralling.

“oh!” shoko suddenly gasps. she reaches up, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead and fixing it as best she can.

“what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely confused in this moment.

“you’ll see,” she simply grins, sending him a wink. then, “come in!”

the door to the infirmary opens to reveal…you.

“kento,” you breathe, the quiet click of your heels echoing through the empty room as you quickly walk towards him.

he’s shocked, but lets you carefully wrap your arms around him, cradling his head against your chest.

but before he knows it he’s holding onto you too, breathing in the deep, sweet scent of your perfume and focusing on the steady beat of your heart.

“what are you doing here?” he asks once you finally release him, taking your hands in his.

“shoko called me,” you tell him. “apparently…apparently i’m your emergency contact.”

his face is suddenly hot with embarrassment. he’d honestly forgotten about that. he hadn’t even realized he’d done it when yaga had asked him to update his information with the school. your name had been the first and only name to pop into his mind.

“sorry,” he apologizes quickly, dropping your hands. he jumped the gun, didn’t he? you’ve only been dating for six months… “i should have asked you first but—”

but no one knows me better than you.

a soft sigh slips from your lips as you sit next to him, with a gaze so reverent that it strips him to the bone. “i love you, kento. i will be your emergency contact as long as you want me to be.”

he whispers the words back to you, suddenly shy.

sometimes nanami lets himself slip a little too far into his own head, overthinking and a little insecure. but you’re always there, ready to coax him back into the light.

“you look beautiful,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. he’s seen you in a lot of dresses, each one making him weak in the knees. but this dress…this one makes it a little hard for him to breathe.

“well, you still owe me a date,” you tell him, helping him up off the cot. “we could go to the ramen place across from my apartment.”

he wraps an arm around your shoulders, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers with his. “i’d go anywhere with you.”

[thargelalia]

Comrade Red Hood

jason todd x fem!reader

patriarchy sucks, thankfully your doting nerdy boyfriend is there to show you support

-> 3k words

-> fluff, hurt/comfort, tiniest bit suggestive

-> warnings: talks of v!olence and crime (c'mon, guys, it's Gotham); mansplaining (not by Jason); reader is a little mean, but she's only human; Jason is a serial kisser and we love that for him

“Are you upset?” 

“Yes.” 

“…is it something I did?” 

“Not everything’s about you.”

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he lets out a low whistle at your sharp words. “Damn. I thought I was supposed to be the broody one here.”

“Getting a taste of your own medicine sometimes is good.”

Silence.

“Sure you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m beginning to.” You let out a deep frustrated sigh, massaging your temples in a futile attempt to stop the incessant throbbing headache. “What do you want, Jason?” 

“I was just—is there anything I can do for you?” He asks, shifting weight between his legs. “You seemed a bit off over the phone earlier, so I decided to drop by.”

“I just want to be alone.” You sound less passive aggressive this time as exhaustion seeps into your words. ”My head is killing me right now, so I just had an aspirin. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” Since it’s dark and your eyes are glued to the ceiling, you’re unable to take in the dejected look on his face. 

Seeing you’ve got no objections — he kind of hoped you’d change your mind and ask for cuddles — Jason leaves the room wordlessly. It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air. A well-known skill amongst all bat-family members.

Even so, he’s surprisingly light on his feet for a big guy. But then again, we’re talking about a walking deadly weapon. A vicious vigilante. The prince of Gotham. Red Hood.

Or at least that’s what he usually is when he’s not sulking in the living room for being a victim of his girlfriend’s sour mood. 

Aside from the sound of a car or two passing by down below, and police sirens echoing distantly on occasion, your place is engulfed in a comfortable silence — this a relatively quiet neighborhood. Moonlight filters through your half-open curtains, a soft welcoming breeze swaying them gently to the side. 

At some point, your eyes flutter open. You don’t even remember falling asleep. There’s a dryness to your throat, prompting you to move around and reach for a slim water bottle on the nightstand. Next to it, the digital clock reads 2:17 AM. 

A five hour nap. Nice. 

Fortunately, the pounding inside your head has subsided.

Tsking in disappointment, seeing the bottle is empty, you detangle your legs from the sheets, begrudgingly getting up and dragging yourself to the kitchen. 

The lights in the living room are still on, making your eyes squint when you approach the entrance. You’re confused to discover Jason still lounging on the couch with a book in his hands, legs spread deliciously wide. One of his feet is propped against the edge of the coffee table.

“Thought you were still out on patrol.” 

He looks up, and blinks, not expecting to see you up. “Just got back, actually. About fifteen minutes ago or so, I think.”

You hum in response and take a moment to really observe him. 

His hair is still indeed damp as it falls over his forehead. He’s also shirtless, only dressed in gray sweatpants. Took him quite a long time to feel comfortable enough to show skin like this around you. Likewise, despite the smile that your reassurances bring to his face whenever you thank him for ‘blessing your eyes with such a delectable sight’, sometimes he still gets antsy if they linger too long on his scars. So, you try to respect his limits while also making sure he knows he’s incredible and beautiful. 

There are also beads of sweat accumulated on his bare chest and neck. Despite having just showered, his body is still overheated from Red Hood’s intense activities, you notice. 

No injuries in sight tonight, thank goodness. But if there were, though, he probably wouldn’t be here. He’d still rather agonize in pain alone in his apartment than letting his medical resident girlfriend tend to him. You’re still trying to ingrain into his stubborn mind that his health will never be a disturbance to you. He will never be a disturbance to you.

Hm, though he kinda was a little bit earlier before. However, that wasn’t his fault. Nor yours, for that matter.

As if on cue, his question breaks you out of your reverie.

“Feeling better?” You nod in affirmation and he gives a sweet smile. “Good. You should eat, baby. I got you something on my way back. It’s in the kitchen.”

You mirror his smile and resume your steps to the kitchen where there’s a white medium-sized paper bag sitting on the counter. 

Dismantling crime and wreaking havoc around Gotham, just to later on pick up food to appease his moody girlfriend back home. 

Isn’t that so cute? 

After drinking your fill of cool water, you grab the food bag, a plate – to avoid crumbs dirtying the floor – and return to the living room to eat in Jason’s company. He’s still engrossed in his book. Or rather, yours. Your small library is now his, but so is his yours. It’s an unspoken agreement.

“I didn’t know Mr. Abdul’s place stays open so late.” You say thoughtfully, munching on a falafel. Jason also got you a fattoush salad, hummus, and some pita bread. Yummy. 

You’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, legs on a pillow in his lap, while his forearms rests on top of them. He’s hunched forward in concentration on the pages in front of him.

“It doesn’t.” Without looking, Jason steals one falafel from the bag and pops it into his mouth. “I broke into his kitchen.“

You choke on a piece of pita bread. “What the f-”

“Relax. I left the money on the counter.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me??” He talks about it so casually. Almost like he’s done this before. “Wait. So, the cookies from Elena’s last time…”

“Well, that one’s obvious.” Successfully blocking a pillow chucked at his face, he rushes to defend himself, “BUT I never forget to pay, so technically I’m not stealing! Only billionaires are harmed here, I swear.”

You both know which particular billionaire he has in mind.

“Right. Keep telling yourself that, Robin. Hood.” You scoff, picking up the fattoush salad box, opening its lid and picking through vegetables with a plastic fork. Jason’s mouth opens in surprise. “Pun intended, by the way.” 

“Whatever.” He huffs with an eye roll, trying to conceal his amusement. To make a point, he raises the open book to his face and blocks your view of him, ignoring you completely. 

As you silently chew on radishes and lettuce, you take a minute to inspect what he’s reading. It’s a considerably thick book. Zeroing in the letters of the cover, your eyes widen in shock as you swallow. 

“Jason, is that—you’re reading The Capital?”

“Yeah, why?” He questions back, nonchalantly, lowering the book just past his eyes.  “You think I only read fiction?” 

“I guess… but I only asked because I think it’s an odd choice of reading given your night.” You explain, gathering the empty food containers, placing them inside the paper bag and setting it aside on the coffee table. “Aren’t you supposed to be tired?” 

“Of fighting against oppressive systems? Absolutely.” He quips, a playful smirk on his face. “This guy just gets me, you know?” 

Seeing the unimpressed look on your face, his smile dies down and he places the book down on the armrest. “I got an extra adrenaline rush while chasing Penguin’s goons this time. There were dozens of them ‘cause he was closing an important arms deal at a warehouse tonight.. Remember that time when we were watching a documentary about wolves, and it was showing how packs tend to slaughter entire flocks of sheep when they’re unable to escape from a confined space?”

“Is that your way of telling me you were in a… kill frenzy?” You swallow hard, trying not to sound too alarmed, but the distant look in his eyes accompanied by his eerie tone and word choice is unsettling. Even though you're well aware he doesn’t pose a danger to you.

Jason seldom shares the details about his gruesome Red Hood business with you. One, because he knows you already see too much violent shit while working at the hospital. 

Two, he knows you worry about his safety. 

Three, there’s also the fact that he’d like to keep a sense of normalcy at home. 

Four, and most importantly, he believes it’s best if you don’t access his dark side, but sometimes – like right now – he’s unable to conceal it. At the end of the day, he’s only someone fighting their shadows like any other. 

Although, his are evidently a bit more obscure and jarring. 

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally breaks out of his trance with a shake of his head. Taking in your tense posture and concerned face, he softens his demeanor, reaching for one of your hands. One, two, three kisses delivered to the tip of your fingers and he’s pulling you to sit straddling his legs. Calloused palms start rubbing the top of your thighs in reassurance back and forth. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I didn’t shoot to kill..uh, mostly.” There’s no way of telling if he’s being sincere, and, frankly, you’d rather not think about this. As usual, he’s attuned to your senses, and tries to lighten the conversation up. “Anyways, I was still feeling charged when I got back. That’s why I picked one of your brainy books to help me wind down. Since your Sociology shelf was right in my line of sight, I decided to give it a try… Oh, I just remembered I forgot to bring you my French copy of Madame Bovary again.” 

“Hm, it’s fine. I’ll borrow it next time I’m at your place. But, back to my books. Why do I feel like this isn’t a first time thing? I did find some of my Sociology books misplaced a couple of weeks ago,” you complain. “Glad you’re having fun tackling dialectical materialism as a post-vigilante workout, but please make sure you put my books in order once you’re done.” 

“So bossy.” He playfully tuts, adding a nip to your shoulder. Then you feel his lips trace a slow path up to your neck, leaving a slow deliberate kiss there. “And so pretty, too.”

He smiles mischievously, lips still attached to your skin, as you shudder. 

Devious bastard.

Crossing your arms, you try not to blush and keep your voice steady. “I mean it, Jason.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll mind your precious organization.” He follows his promise with a chaste kiss, this time to your lips. “But seriously, you do look pretty.” 

“What, out of a sudden?” You raise your eyebrows in amusement. 

Jason prides himself in being a skillful liar. It often comes in handy. 

But he most definitely is not the type to give empty compliments. 

Especially not to the most precious person of his life. 

And you’re aware of that. His eyes don’t lie.

There’s that deep candid warmth swirling within those mesmerizing irises that just captures you whole. They remind you of the ocean, colors of a fine line between blue and green, like teal. Sometimes calm and serene, sometimes agitated and raging. 

One thing is sure. You’re the only person who gets to soak into the tranquil waters hidden amidst the windows of his soul. 

Because you’re the only one capable of bringing them out. 

“Nah, I always think that when I see your face.” Comes his reply.

At that, more kisses ensue. Obviously.

First one is yours, molding your lips to his in an instant as you try to return his incessant devotion with eagerness. He wastes no time in reciprocating, mouth slightly parting to welcome your tongue inside. It makes your head fuzzy all over. Every single fucking time. This type of intimacy took almost as long to construct as the display of his body. You’re never taking his trust for granted. Never. Soon enough, Jason discovered himself to be a great fan of kissing. You. He’s done it before with other people, sure, but it didn’t make him feel like this. Yearn like this. As if he depended on it to survive. And he might as well do. Your fingers find their way to his scalp, tangling in silky locks and pulling while trapping his lower lip between your teeth, eliciting a soft groan from him. As a result, he grips your hips harder, drawing you impossibly closer. The heat from his bare muscular chest is scorching, almost too much to bear as it seeps through your shirt – his shirt. 

You two only break apart because he decides to now trail his lips downward, leaving you panting, eyes sealed shut in pleasure, as he works his mouth across every other available patch of your skin. From jaw to neck, and shoulder. And back up.

This time his ministrations are sweeter and more tender, making you melt completely into his embrace. 

Finally sated, after delivering a last kiss behind your ear, he whispers softly and a little breathless, “Wanna share now why you almost bit my head off a few hours ago, hm?” 

Watching your face fall when he pulls back, his heart equally drops, causing him to backtrack, “S’okay, baby. You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.”

You exhale shakily, glancing down to fiddle with the hems of your – his – shirt. A hand cups your cheek, and tilts your head upwards carefully, thumb brushing the soft skin back and forth. Molten blue-green irises coaxing you to relax like the gentle sway of the sea. Telling he’s trusty and willing to listen.

“No, it’s just… ugh…” He waits patiently as you gather your thoughts. “I had to deal with one of my stupid professors mansplaining to me during my presentation today. A subject that I’ve been studying for years now. I knew what I was talking about and he acted as if I didn’t, saying that I didn’t use the concepts correctly like I was a child. Some of my colleagues told me I shouldn’t take his words personally, but it fucking sucked. Still does. I hate it when people, especially men, undermine my intelligence. I just felt so frustrated, I went to the bathroom and cried when the presentation ended. And to top it off, I got a miserable headache on the way home. So yeah, that’s why I was in such a shitty mood tonight. I’m sorry I took it out on you…” 

While describing what happened and venting about your feelings, you barely registered the way his arms tensed around you or how a muscle in his jaw ticked. There’s really no mistaking the look on his face now. The dark stormy blue that has replaced the soothing sea green. “Jason, no. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“He upset you.” Your boyfriend states in a clipped tone. “He made you cry.” 

“No matter how tempting, you can’t just fuck up every single guy that gets on my nerves.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Jace.” You beg, exasperated. “Please. That’s not what I need right now, okay? He was being an asshole, yes, but the academy, and the whole world, is crowded with them unfortunately. Most of the time, I can handle it just fine. But, today was different. I’ve been preparing for my presentation for days, so he caught me by surprise with his arrogance and my anxiety kinda escalated, I guess. What I mean is I didn’t tell you this because I wanted you to avenge me. I just want to be understood. Can’t you do that for me?” The sight of tears filling your wide eyes dilute his outrage instantly. You’re engulfed in a tight comforting hug.

“Of course, baby. I’ll never feel the same as you ‘cause I’m not a woman, but you must know I’m here for you and I’m sorry you had to deal with this.” He offers, sympathetically, before something darker twists his features again. “I won’t lie to you, though. It’d be easy for me to rip that fucking bastard’s tongue—”

“Jason.”

“—and feed it to his mouth until he chokes—”

“Jason.” 

He puts a finger to your mouth to silence you, just to pull back immediately before it gets bitten off.

“—but I won’t do that.” Not today at least, he keeps this last part to himself. “My point is a brilliant woman like you will always be a threat to insecure fuckers like him. Bet he’s just jealous he’ll never shine as bright as you do.”

You throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in it with a sniffle. “I love you.”

“I love you too. A lot.” Nuzzling into your hair, he inhales the soft scent of jasmine shampoo. “Feeling okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.” You really are. But, then, you sigh wistfully. “I’m thinking if I were an Amazon, it’d probably be easier to deal with this type of situation.”

“How so?” He tilts his head, confused.

“You know… I’d be strong, powerful... intimidating. Stuff like that.” 

“You already wield your intellect like the sharpest blade I’ve ever seen. Your words are eloquent and sharp when you stick up for what you believe. Not to mention the way you carry yourself with confidence even when you’re in a room filled with strangers.” He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, speaking earnestly. “Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t need to be an Amazon when you’re already a goddess.” 

“That’s… wow… I wasn’t expecting that.” The butterflies are throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. You just can’t stop grinning, so you playfully hit his shoulder. “Never knew you could be so sappy.” 

He catches your wrist delicately, not missing the opportunity to turn it and plant his lips on your knuckles.

“That’s all on you. You turned me into this.” He claims, placing your open palm over his heart, and holding it there. It’s beating quite rapidly. Like yours is. “Take responsibility, woman.” 

“Fine,” you concede with a playful eye roll. Guilty as charged, your honor. “But, seriously, thank you. Your words mean a lot.”

“You mean a lot to me. Don’t ever forget that.” One, two, three pecks to his lips. You discover you really love kissing him as well. 

Suddenly, he’s covering his mouth with a yawn. Outside, Gotham’s black heaven is starting to get tinged with pink and yellow, announcing the sun’s impending arrival. Soon the streets around your building will have people going out about their day. Unbeknownst to them, one of the guys responsible for their safety sleeps tucked in your bed right around the corner. 

“We should probably sleep.” Jason begins, effortlessly getting up in a swift motion while still holding onto you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he walks you two to the bedroom. “I already lost way more brain cells than intended. Gotta save some for Mary Wollstonecraft tomorrow.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“And you need to get woke,” he taunts.

“These are my books!” You counter, indignantly. 

“Ours. Don’t be so individualistic, baby. That’s why capitalism—” Not letting him finish, you jump off his arms and go into the bathroom as he trails behind like a lost puppy.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, comrade Red Hood. Now shut your revolutionary mouth, and let’s get ready for bed.”

thanks for reading, and please reblog if you enjoyed it <33

feel free to share your thoughts, i'd love to hear them!

this is where i got the dividers

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 . ( a collection of dialogue prompts based on varying types of demands &. requests . adjust phrasing as necessary . this prompt WILL likely be updated in the future . )

don't say a word .

don't leave me here .

meet me at our spot tonight .

follow me and stay close .

don't beg , it's pathetic .

can you ( tie / zip ) this for me ?

stop lying to me . tell me what you did .

put that down , you don't know what it ( is / does ) .

get out of my sight .

stop pretending you know what's going on .

find a first-aid kit . quickly !

don't get yourself killed .

leave them to me , just go .

just admit that you love me .

just admit that you hate me .

come here , let me look at you .

( name ) , don't make me do this .

drop your ( weapon ) .

stay here and wait for my signal .

don't just sit there , move .

take this and run , don't let anyone have it .

pretend you're my ( partner / girlfriend / boyfriend ) .

don't look , you'll give us away .

don't say another word .

stop pretending like you care .

go make sure the coast is clear .

take this with you . it's a good luck charm .

don't tell anyone about this .

if anybody asks about today , lie .

stop looking at me like that .

tell me you love me .

just kiss me , already .

keep your eyes on the road .

stop crying and calm down .

come with me . there's so much we could do .

wear the ( dress / tie / item ) i gave you tonight .

show me how you like to be touched .

hold my hand .

kiss me , make it look real .

look at me . how many fingers am i holding up ?

will you marry me ?

just slow down for a minute . what's going on ?

take a deep breath , you need to calm down .

get out of here , ( name ) !

draw your weapon .

go rest . i'm not asking .

take a step back .

give me a straight answer .

be polite to our guests .

look me in the eye and say that again .

put your feelings aside for a moment .

keep close to me .

here , let me see that .

look up at the sky .

get out of here , i don't want to see you right now .

stand up , this isn't over yet .

close your eyes and count to ten .

smile for the camera !

keep your head down .

( name ) , let me past .

listen carefully to what i'm about to say .

don't just stare , come in .

stop laughing , this isn't funny .

take this and hide it .

don't make a sound .

put your hands up .

quit causing problems everywhere you go .

just admit that you don't know what you're doing .

stop right there , i mean it .

don't say that name aloud .

just trust me , okay ?

stop acting so childish .

call the police . now .

tell me you love me , even if it's not real .

take a good hard look .

stop the car , ( name ) .

don't make eye contact .

stay out of trouble .

just do it already , we've waited long enough .

hold me tight , and never let me go .

finish what you started .

tell me what you know .

just stay away from me .

turn around . slowly .

don't be scared .

put it down before somebody gets hurt .

stop pretending , i'm tired of the pretending .

grab me my ( item ) , will you ?

don't make assumptions .

put this over it to stop the bleeding .

get to safety !

wipe that look off your face .

secure the area .

keep an eye on them .

look at yourself in the mirror .

run . run and don't stop .

eat . you haven't touched your food in days .

[kingkaizen]

𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓻

∘ desc: although things are going great with your boyfriend nanami, sometimes you think he's too nice in bed. who better to ask for some pointers than from nanami's opposite, gojo satoru <3

∘ ft: nanami & gojo

∘ word count: 2.7k

∘ includes: voyeurism, threesome, pussy slaps, spanking, face fucking, edging, dacryphilia, dirty talk

Nanami is the best boyfriend that you’ve ever had.

No matter everything that you’ve been through together in the last three years, nothing has ever made you doubt the amount of love you had for each other. You absolutely adored everything about him. After being friends for years before getting together, it wasn’t hard to fall so deeply in love with the man that he’s become. Being able to come home to him is everything that you’ve ever wanted and more.

But, of course, all relationships come with their issues.

When Nanami received a message from you saying that you had to talk, his heart immediately dropped. What could he have done wrong? Was today a special day that he forgot about? Did he accidentally leave the toilet seat up? What could possibly be it? He rushed home from work, unlocking the front door to see you sitting on the couch.

“Is everything okay?” Nanami questioned, slipping his shoes off and placing them neatly on the floor along with pinning his coat on the rack. “Your text worried me.”

“No, Kento. Everything is fine, I promise, come sit with me.” You gestured to the cushion next to yours, trying to keep him calm. You knew that texting him like that would elicit this concerned reaction, but what you’re about to say could not be said through a simple text message.

“Kento, when I say this to you, I need you to know that I love you so much and you are an amazing boyfriend okay?” Nanami nods his head slightly, eyebrows slowly coming together in complete anticipation of what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“I want you to start being rougher with me in bed.”

Finally coming out and saying it, you felt like a weight being lifted off of your chest. Nanami always treats you like glass, in and out of the bedroom. Although you love how gentle and loving he is with you, you need something more. You can’t help but think back to all of the times that he would come back home from work, irritated about something that happened. How good it would feel for him to take out those emotions on you. But, knowing your sweet boyfriend, that thought would never cross his mind. 

“Am I not satisfying you enough? I thought you enjoyed our intimate moments together…” Nanami responds, his brain thinking back to every single night you’ve spent together in the past. Why hasn’t he seen this before? Knowing that he hasn’t been satisfying you in the way that he thought hurt him much more than he was willing to admit right away.

“No, that’s not it at all. You know that you always make me feel good. I just want to change things up a bit, that’s all.” You placed an encouraging hand on his thigh, prompting him to look up at you. “I know you, Kento, don’t think too much into it. I love every moment that we have together, I just want us to try something different, that’s all.”

Nanami took in all of your words, making a pact to himself that he will change things for the better. He understands what you want, he’s just not sure how to fully give that to you. How he is in bed is exactly the way he is outside of that: sweet, loving, and overall just concerned. He would never forgive himself for hurting you in any capacity, so living up to your request will be a challenge for him. Who better to ask than his complete opposite in every single way?

“She wants you, Nanami Kento, to be rough?” Gojo almost can’t help but laugh at the thought. It’s not laughable because Nanami doesn’t have a rough side to him, Gojo of all people would know how it feels to be on the opposite end of that. The funny part is that he can’t imagine him being rough towards you. Even from an outsider looking into your relationship, anyone could see how he treats you.

“I didn’t tell you this so that you could laugh at me, Satoru, I’m asking for your help.” This request from Nanami also humored Gojo. Finally, after all of these years, Nanami is actually voluntarily asking for his help.

“How exactly do you expect me to help you? Do you need me to demonstrate?” Gojo laughed as he said this, waiting for Nanami to show some sort of disagreement in his face.

That look never came.

“That is actually exactly what I want you to do. I know the type of history that you two have, I’m not an idiot. All of these years since we’ve all been friends before we started dating, I would see the way you would look at each other. I know that there is chemistry there and I wouldn’t be surprised if you have been intimate before.” Nanami looked at Gojo, seriousness etched across his face. “I want you to show me how to treat her the way that she wants to be, I only want her to be happy.” As much as Nanami hates to admit when Gojo is better than him in any sort of way, he knows the truth when it comes to this. He sees how other women have fawned over him, and it must be for good reason.

“I’ll teach you how to fuck her like a slut.”

The sight of two shirtless men is enough to excite anyone. After telling Nanami what was on your mind, this is the last thing that you expected him to do. Of course he brought this up to you before this moment, always wanting to ensure your comfort. It was hard to disagree, you’ve been with Gojo years prior but it was never anything serious. Always flings, Gojo was never the “relationship type”. 

“So gorgeous, my love.” Nanami always admired how ethereal you looked, both in and out the bedroom. He caressed your face, planting soft yet firm kisses on your lips, growing more and more passionate by the second. Gojo was sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, watching with an intense gaze. You would think that having another man watching the two of you would freak you out, but it weirdly turned you on. Gently, as always, Nanami laid you down on the mattress, fingers finding their way to your covered breasts, exposing them to his hungry mouth. After moving the fabric, his lips puckered around your nipple, tongue pushing on the hardened nub as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Kento, I need you so bad.” You whimpered, the impatient side of you coming out already. You know Nanami, you know that it doesn’t take much begging to get what you want. You know how bad he wants you too, he can’t help but fully oblige to every word you say.

“I know honey, I’m going to give it to you.” Nanami had no self control when it came to you. Gojo rolls his eyes in the corner, finally making his presence known.

“Nanami, you can’t let her talk to you like that.” Gojo slowly began to touch his growing bulge through his pants. “It’s like you already forgot everything I told you.” He stood up and walked towards the two of you, Nanami moving to the side. Gojo gently gripped your chin, turning your head to look him dead in his eyes.

“If you want something from him, you’re going to have to earn it.”

You nodded your head, his authoritative tone sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. Following his discrete directions, you kneeled in front of your boyfriend, fingers playfully toying with the zipper in his pants as you pulled it down along with the rest of it. You kissed his hard length through the last piece of fabric still left on his body, looking up at him through your lashes.

“D-Don’t tease me like that, (y/n)”. Nanami loved this obedient side of you, even if he wasn’t the reason you were acting this way. Before he could even process, Gojo lightly tapped the side of your ass, sending a slight sting throughout your body.

“Tease him like that again and you’re gonna have to make yourself cum. Now say sorry.” Gojo threatened, backing away once again to see how this unfolds. By now, he has fully released himself from the confines of his pants, fingers wrapping around his girth as he slowly began to pleasure himself at the sight.

“I’m sorry.” You looked up at Nanami once more, pulling away the last piece of clothing separating your awaiting mouth from his leaking tip. 

“I’m sorry what?” Gojo sneered.

“I’m sorry sir.” Your pleading voice made Nanami groan, watching as you finally began to wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. You began to put your tongue to work, swirling it around his head while keeping your lips firmly around the top, sucking in. Nanami could tell that you were still in a teasing mood, refusing to go any lower than that. Suddenly, you could feel his hand find its way to the back of your head, forcing you to let more of him in. Nanami would never do something like this normally, his forcefulness with you turning you on tremendously. Gojo laughed, approving of Nanami’s sudden confidence boost. It’s arousing to him too, watching you take all of him so deep in your mouth, gagging on his length as he throws his head back.

“That’s it, take it all.” Nanami grunts, “I love how messy you look, choking on me like that.” He could feel you moan around his length at his words, thighs rubbing together in anticipation of what’s to come. “I know how wet you are already, if you want some help you have to ask for it okay?” 

No matter what, Nanami is still always keeping your needs in mind, noticing how soaked you're starting to become. He removes himself from inside your mouth, allowing you to fully breathe. You look so beautiful, tears threatening to spill from your lash line and saliva coating around your mouth. He helps you back up to your feet, leading your body to lay backwards onto the bed, callused fingers catching any tears that manage to slip. “Tell me what you want.”

Your gaze moved from his eyes over to Gojo. “I want you both. Please sir, just touch me.” You felt pathetic as you begged, your core pulsing with need. You’ve never felt this sensitive before, everything feeling that much more intense given how hungry the two men in your presence are. 

“Aww, what a little slut you are.” Gojo grinned, making his way closer to you. “What do you think Nanami, has she been a good girl for us? Should we give her what she wants?” Gojo’s fingers began to rub on the outside of your panties. “Look at how wet she is for us.” Gojo showed Nanami your slick on his fingers, watching it glisten underneath the lowlight. 

“I think she has been a good girl.” Nanami smiles at you, so proud of how well you’ve been doing for them. “Go ahead, Gojo, you can touch her.”

“Finally.” Gojo quickly moved your panties to the side, the coolness of his touch catching you off guard as he teased the inside of your folds. “You don’t understand how torturous it was watching you without being able to touch you yet.” He makes quick work of finding your clit, slowly rubbing his thumb on your pearl as he watches you begin to writhe underneath. “Don’t forget why you’re here slut. You wanted to be treated like this so bad and now you got it. Beg for it.”

“P-Please Satoru, please touch me. I can’t take it anymore, I need it so bad.” You pleaded, beginning to feel helpless underneath him. Gojo smirked, plunging his slender fingers inside of you unexpectedly. You felt your body arch up in surprise, a gasp leaving your mouth as pleasure began to consume your body.

“So fucking greedy.” Gojo began slowly at first, catching a rhythm. “Look at how she’s drenching my fingers.” Nanami rubs himself at the sight, growing impatient. You’re too far gone to notice, feeling your own orgasm already beginning to slowly creep up in intensity. Before you know it, you're cumming all around his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Gojo quickly pulls his fingers out, not doing anything to help you ride it out. “Who told you that you could cum?” He taps his hand against your pussy repeatedly, watching you moan in a mix of pleasure and pain and you slowly come down from your high. “What a fucking whore.”

“I’m sorry sir, I couldn’t -fuck- I couldn’t help it.” You sob, looking at Nanami. You’ve never seen him look so angry. He didn’t say anything to you, only twirling his finger around, motioning for you to flip over. You quickly follow his que, not wanting to do anything to tick him off further. You can’t fully process that this is happening, your Nanami actually treating you this way.

You fucking loved it.

You felt his familiar touch rub over your ass as you got on all fours, arching your back slightly. He groaned at the sight of your wetness, glistening core almost calling out to him. He rubbed his tip against your folds, feeling your hole try to suck him in. Meanwhile, Gojo is sucking your juice off of his fingers, loving the taste of you.

“Get on with it Nanami, if she wants to be punished so badly then so be it.” Gojo made his way in front of you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your plush lips. “We told you what would happen if you didn’t listen, right? You have to be a bit smarter than that sweetheart.” The syrupy tone of his voice didn’t match his actions as he parted your lips with his head, feeling you wrap your lips against his girth. With that, Nanami finally pushed himself all the way in, moaning in unison along with you. Gojo could feel the vibrations of your moans against him.

Nanami gave you no time to adjust, pounding his entire length into you with such force that caused your mouth to hang open in shock. You felt so good, brain completely fogged over with no thoughts other than the complete monster that Nanami has become. He’s never fucked you like this, usually preferring soft thrusts over the hard pounding that he’s subjecting yourself to now. You suddenly felt a sharp slap on your ass, his large hand rubbing the sting away almost just as quickly as he placed it.

“Don’t ignore Gojo now, honey. I thought a slut like you would love to have two thick cocks filling you up this way?” Nanami questioned, picking up the pace which made it so much harder for you to focus. Gojo wasn’t having that. He placed one hand on each side of your face, holding it in place for him to thrust his hips against you. His cock filled your mouth, spit sloshing everywhere as your face got messier and messier.

“Fuck (y/n), you’re doing so fucking good for us princess.” Gojo moaned, the sounds coming from the room overwhelmed his senses. The bed creaking, you struggling to take Nanami while also pleasuring Gojo, and the sound of Nanami’s balls slapping against your ass sounded like music to his ears. Nanami couldn’t believe how hot this all was, feeling as your walls began to quiver around him.

“You’re gonna cum again baby?” Nanami asked, gripping your hips tighter as he felt himself get even closer. Gojo was already almost there, hips beginning to stutter as he watched you cry out. All you could do is whimper in response, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter. Nanami made it there first, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he spilled himself inside of you. Ropes of cum flooded in as he fully pressed himself against you, beads of sweat threatening to drip off his nose. Gojo soon followed, shooting his load into your mouth as you took it all.

“Such a good girl.” Gojo mused, wiping the side of your mouth when he finished. He proceeded to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue. Nanami pulled himself out slowly, watching in delight as his seed slowly dripped out of you. You whimpered at the now empty feeling, your orgasm slowly starting to retreat.

“You’re not going to finish me off?” You angrily turned to Nanami, watching the smirk begin to creep up his face.

“Not unless you beg for it.”

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[yanderedrabbles]

What would Yandere be like! Boyfriend with a girlfriend who is distant from him, but he finds out it's because she's planning a surprise party for him?

Oh this is such a great prompt!!

Yandere Boyfriend - Surprise Party

Yandere! Boyfriend immediately notices something is off. You tilt your phone screen away from him whenever you get a message. You go out shopping when he's away at the gym and when he gets back you've already hidden your parcels away. You whisper with your friends and grow quiet or change the subject when he gets close.

Yandere! Boyfriend hates it. But he tries very hard to be rational about it.

Yandere! Boyfriend who tries to get you to spill your secret. He'll pin you under him and pepper your neck with ticklish kisses, keeping you in place even as you squirm. His words are muffled by your skin but you can still hear the whine in his voice when he says, "Come on baby, you can tell me."

Yandere! Boyfriend who gets more and more pushy when you won't give in. His kisses turn to sharp little nips, his hands roam under your skirt and drag up your thighs. His voice drops dangerously low when he asks, "Why are you keeping secrets from me?"

Yandere! Boyfriend who has to fight himself to even let you up when you tell him to stop, that you're not hiding anything.

Yandere! Boyfriend who goes through your phone the second you're asleep. But you know what your boyfriend is like and you've covered your tracks well. He stares at the screen, his hand clenched so tightly around the device the frame almost bends. He has take several deep, slow breaths before he can make his fingers unclench.

Yandere! Boyfriend who starts following you. The errands you're on seem harmless on the surface. Buying a cake, ribbon, balloons... But his mind is an awfully paranoid place and all he can think about is some guy spreading chocolate frosting on your thighs and licking it off. Tying your legs together with ribbons and pulling them apart with his teeth. All he can think about is some bastard enjoying a gift that isn't his.

He goes to the gym after that and pounds at the punching bag until his knuckles are raw and bleeding inside his gloves.

Yandere! Boyfriend who tracks down every single one of your friends. Sometimes banging at their doors long after sundown. There's only one thing he wants to know from them.

Why is she keeping secrets from me?

Yandere! Boyfriend who hates the vague answers they give him - just wait and see, I can't tell you, it's a surprise. He has to bite his tongue to keep himself grounded or else he might start shaking them until the truth rattles out of their scrambled skulls.

Yandere! Boyfriend who honestly terrifies your friends with his intensity. They desperately want to tell you about it, the way his eyes go dull and dangerous, the way his massive fists stay clenched at his side like he's always on the verge of swinging, the blood that coats his teeth like he's been biting himself to ribbons. But they see the way you look at him, so hopelessly in love, and can't find the words to tell you.

Yandere! Boyfriend who won't let you out of your apartment. He'll cuddle you and pretend to be asleep so you can't even untangle yourself from his massive bulk. He'll "lose" the keys and help you turn the whole place upside down looking for it, teasing you for being so absent minded. He'll turn back all the clocks and hide your phone, just so he can steal a few more hours. Who only relents when you start considering the dangerously rusty fire escape.

Yandere! Boyfriend who is on the verge of tying you up in his basement. Who unlocks his door with the intention of taking a look down there and maybe making it comfortable.

"Surprise!"

Yandere! Boyfriend who stands frozen, taking in the ribbons, the balloons, the cake, the crowd of people. And at the forefront, you. In a pretty, new dress wearing those heels that make your legs look a mile long.

Yandere! Boyfriend who scoops you up in a hug and won't let you go. Who keeps a hand on you all night - around your waist, on your thigh, intertwined with yours.

Yandere! Boyfriend who practically kicks the stragglers out the door at the end of the night. He turn around to an empty house with you out of sight and his mind starts to doubt itself again.

Yandere! Boyfriend who finally finds you in the bedroom, ribbons tied all around you and a pretty red bow holding your legs together.

"Surprise."

Yandere! Boyfriend who thinks that might be his new favourite word. Who feels his throat go dry and for a second all he can do is drink you in. His pretty little girlfriend who played with fire planning this.

Yandere! Boyfriend who carefully unties each and every ribbon, planting soft kisses on your skin all the while. For now, the doubts have dissappeared and all that matters is you and him. Skin to skin and the only thought in his head is how he adores you.

[leclarifies]

letters (MV33)

꒰ max verstappen x childhoodbestfriend! reader ꒱

synopsis┊it was confusing, even though you were continents apart, you never understood why max never responded to your letters, until you attend the belgium gp to finally get the answers you were looking for. inspired by the prompt, "why did you never reply to my letters?" "you wrote me letters?"

genre┊ fluffy, the fluffiest fluff i've ever fluffed.

word count┊ 4.4k

aria yaps┊ i have worked on this non-stop for two days, and i loved the way it turned out, maybe one of my favorite works. enjoy reading this as much as i enjoy writing this!!

SECOND PART

she was always around max, either from the sidelines or the first person max ran to when he won a race, it was always her. not even his father, even though he held his father to the highest regard, but it was always her.

the little wrinkles on the edge of her eyes when she smiled at him, the way her lips would curl up, or the way she would giggle every. single. time. that he would come and hug her after every race finish. he remembers it all. and the way he would snuggle his face in the crook of her neck and asked her softly after he would win a race, 'did you see me win, schatje?'

she would always smile back with a laugh, 'of course i did maxie.'

it was always about max, her life revolved around him, whether he liked it or not. she adored him and maybe he adored her a little bit more. they were childhood friends, they were inseparable since they were little babies, their mothers being friends made it even harder for the both of them to not be attached at the hip.

she loved being in his presence and he loved her.

the divorce between jos and sophie was hard on max, he blamed himself and his career but she was always there to tell him that it's not his fault. that their decision was their own and she never forgot to tell max that it wasn't his fault, no matter how much they told him that it was.

she saw the way jos had pushed max to his limits, get physical with his own son and his way of escaping that life was run to her arms, she was there tending to every bruise, every wound whether physical or emotional. she was his rock and it was final. nothing anyone could ever say or do would change his name.

"schatje," max had gently woken her up from her slumber, and she stirred awake from his soft voice, she noticed where she was and finally remembered what happened.

max had finished lower than expected and jos had thrown hurtful things about max, she was there on his mother's couch, comforting him and had fallen asleep that way, with max on her lap, "are you sleepy?"

she shook her head, not wanting to admit that yes, indeed she was sleepy, but if max needed comfort then that wasn't a big deal to her, "what's wrong maxie?"

"nothing, you can sleep on my bed if you're tired. i can sleep here," max had brushed a stray strand of her hair behind her ear but she refused, she hated taking his bed because she knew how uncomfortable the couch was, she wanted him to sleep well.

but he wouldn't allow her to take the couch, so they both slept on sophie's couch almost cuddled with eachother because they were both stubborn.

max was necessarily content with how he was living his life right now, but she made it better and that's all he could ask for. was it her smile? maybe her presence? max didn't care. the first memory he could remember from his early childhood was her, and it was etched into his memory like stone.

she was content with being max's rock, she was there to keep him grounded and she too only had memories of him from her early childhood. she wouldn't replace him for the world, he was too precious for anything in this earthly world.

but there was one day, it felt like a bomb dropped on her. her father had told her that he would have to move to korea to continue work, and she didn't know how to break the news to max until a few days before she had to leave.

she knew it was wrong to keep something this big away from max, but she was so stricken with anxiety that she never got the chance to until max came over to her house and saw all the packed boxes with their belongings.

"why didn't you tell me sooner?" max was angry, she could tell, by the way he was pacing around her room, looking at the packed boxes around. max thought he meant more to her than just a measly friend, he felt frustrated— betrayed almost. why wouldn't she tell him? why would she keep something as big as this away from him?

"why didn't you say something before? why now? why before you could see me race this weekend?" max was raising his voice now, and she didn't know what to do. her eyes turned glassy and those doe eyes max loved so much just looked so sad.

she stayed quiet, a guilty look on her face. she knew max would break from the news, and she knew that it would affect his performance, but she didn't know how to stay, how to convince her father that she didn't want to go, so yet again, she stayed silent in important moments of her life.

"schatje, can you say something? say anything?!" max yelled and she flinches, she didn't know what to say or what to do, she wanted to say something, say anything. but nothing would come to her lips. it was so hard for her when he was angry like this, it reminded her of his father and his father was deathly scary when angry.

a sigh escapes max's lips when he sees her flinch, coming close to her to wrap her in a hug. tears escaped from her eyes as she held onto max tight, "i didn't know how to tell you," she whispers into max's ear but max didn't say anything to that, just held her even tighter and he did not want to let go.

"it's okay schatje, i'm not mad at you. i could never get mad at you, i'm sorry for raising my voice. i just don't want you to go," tears started to escape max's eyes too, he didn't want to see her go. he wanted her to stay, and she did too. but the universe was pulling them apart and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

the ride to the airport was tough, being only fifteen and sixteen respectively. max held her hand the entire time, not wanting to let go, he didn't want her to leave, she was his biggest support system and he couldn't imagine her gone like that.

she was the most scared of the two of them, what if her father never returned to belgium? what if she was stuck there in korea forever? what if she never got to see his pretty blue eyes anymore?

max was the one to ground her, no longer lost in her thoughts, "can you promise me we'll keep in touch? or maybe visit from time to time?" max was holding onto her hands tightly, she felt like they would bruise, she could only smile and nod.

her mother had called her over, it was time to go. she looked at max for what it felt like the last time and left her life in belgium.

dear schatje,

hi, this is the first week that you're gone and it's bene been so hard without you here with me. i forgot that you weren't here anymore and i was expecting to see your face, but when i didn't, i may or may not have almost cried.

i miss you so much. tell me how it is in korea, is it cold? do they have bears there? what about the food? is it good? can you eat it? i heard there's a lot of spiy spicy food there? honestly i don't care about what they have there, i just care about you.

when can you visit again? can you tell me if you're ever coming back? i'm so worried about you there, i miss you... so much schatje.

written with a lot of love, your maxie.

max always handed off his letters to his father, telling his father to hand it off to his mother because apparently they kept in contact and wanted to send it off to the post office on behalf of him.

he just wondered how she was doing there.

it's been months and countless of letters max had sent, and none of them replied. he was starting to lose hope, he didn't want to think that his best friend would forget about him so easily like that, but he held out hope. he knew that she wouldn't magically forget about him now that she was there.

jealousy bubbled within him when he realized that she would be meeting new people, what if she met someone like him? who enjoyed karting and wanted to steal her attention?

no, he couldn't be thinking like that. he loved her and he knew she loved him as much as he did, so he told himself to just be patient, maybe letters to korea took months to reach?

the naviety was almost laughable but he was fine with it. he just wanted to hear back from his pretty girl.

"i do not understand why you keep writing letters to that stupid girl, she doesn't reply to you and all it does is distract you," jos had reprimanded his son, but max was stubborn. he didn't care what his father had to say, he loved all of her, even when she was thousands of kilometers away. he wanted to talk, even when she never replied.

max was in the process of writing another letter, but he never listened to his father, not about her. not about how much of a distraction she's been to his career, he didn't care. he used it as motivation to get better on the track, so the next time she saw him, he would be a world champion, that's what he silently promised to her.

it had been two years, and he hadn't heard a peep back. slowly, he was starting to lose hope but he couldn't lose hope, every single time he would send off the letters, he told himself that maybe it got lost in the mail.

max kept writing though.

max's debut in f1 was explosive to say the least, his interviews would absolutely go viral by the things he was saying in them. he didn't understand why, he just said what was on his mind.

what was truly on his mind was her.

was he not good enough for her? was him being in f1 not enough to impress her? why wouldn't she write back?

oh god how he missed her.

he still wrote to her weekly, it was religious at this point. he never forgot and he always told his father to send them off to his mother and the week after that was always disappointment because he wouldn't hear anything back.

little did he know, she never received those letters.

max had slowly stopped writing letters as he got into f1, he didn't see a point in it anymore. she never replied. she didn't care. letters didn't take years to reach korea, and he finally lost hope.

winning his first championship felt empty, the pretty girl who used to be waiting for him wasn't there for him anymore. of course, he was happy to win such an impressive feat, who wouldn't? but it just... lacked her.

max indeed lost hope that she would ever write back, but never lost hope that she was out there, somewhere, watching him race every single week and beat the shit out of his rivals. she loved watching him race and that's what he intended to do until the day he died, he wanted to impress her, maybe that was his ulterior motive to becoming a formula one driver.

all just to impress his best friend who had lost contact with him for a decade now.

"you need to stop figdeting so much," her mother had scolded her, she could only laugh nervously and stop fidgeting around. she wondered why max never wrote back to her, she had written him letters. did he hate her for moving out to korea and not coming to visit belgium?

she shook the thoughts out of her head, she was here now. for his home race, and for the rest of her life. her father had now decided to move back to belgium, because and i quote, 'i don't want my daughter to lose touch with her culture'.

she was 26 now, and she had guessed that he turned 27 not too long ago. it's been so long since she talked to him and she hoped that the spark that she had been yearning for had not been lost to the passages of time.

getting the paddock passes was not easy, it was a war and a half but she managed to snag some for herself and a friend that wanted to visit belgium and would arrive later on in the week.

"how did you even manage to get paddock passes for us?" heejin, her friend that wanted to visit had asked, she could only laugh and explain how she got them, it was a war and a half. heejin laughed along with her as they both arrived and scanned their passes at the entrance.

"i'm gonna meet my best friend here— well it's complicated. i don't think he considers me a best friend anymore, but i still do," she had softly told heejin who was a big formula one fan even before meeting her, heejin raised her eyebrow when she said that.

the both of them were walking down the paddock, passing all of the different team's hospitalities. heejin raised her eyebrow at her friend, who shrugged.

"who's your best friend?" heejin had asked as they pass by the red bull hospitality, she stopped which signalled heejin to stop as well, she looked at the redbull in awe. she hadn't been to a formula one race yet, the closest she'd been was to karting but that didn't bring on the feelings she felt when standing in front of this red bull building.

"well, he's driving the number one car."

"YOUR BEST FRIEND IS MAX VERSTAPPEN?!"

"YOUR BEST FRIEND IS MAX VERSTAPPEN?!"

max had heard a girl yell, he slowly turned his head. he was confused, he didn't have a best friend— well not anymore. she had moved to korea, all memories of her stuck in his head being replayed all over and over again.

that's all he had left of her.

the other girl shushed the girl who yelled, and that's when it dawned on max. the other girl looked awfully familiar, he couldn't quite place why she looked so familiar but she looked like her, like his best friend.

"shh! you can't just yell that out in public," she clamped a hand on her friend's mouth, "they're gonna think i'm insane!" then the both of them giggled, it did sound ridiculous but now he was curious.

was she back? was that her? who was she with? is that her new best friend? is that her?

as they both walked away, max wanted to run up to them, to ask that one particular girl what her name was. what she was doing here and who she was with but all of that died when he got approached by his race engineer.

then he forgot all about that familiar girl that he saw in front of the red bull hospitality.

max would only get another glimpse of her when it was race day, they were walking through the paddock in a similar fashion, but max promised to himself that he would approach them, that he would ask but there was doubt in his heart.

what if she forgot about him?

she couldn't, right?

and so approach them he did, tapping the girl that he felt was so familiar to on the shoulder, she had turned around and they had locked eyes.

it was as if she never left.

the sparks, they all came rushing back and then his heart started beating out of his chest, he wanted to ask so many questions, why she was here, who she was with, when she came back— why she came back, why she never wrote him back.

but the only thing that left his lips were a simple, "hi."

heejin was freaking out, she could tell. she knew that heejin was a big red bull fan too, always talking about how the team was dominating and they had the better car. she had heard all about it. but the little dutchboy she left all those years ago was standing in front of her and not-so little anymore and all those thoughts about her girlfriend was forgotten.

he looked the same, but grown and decked out in red bull merch. she wanted to laugh at how innocent he looked when he tapped her on the shoulder to get her to turn around, he looked stupid, stupidly cute.

all of those feelings from when she was back in belgium came back, she almost forgot what it felt like to be around max— her max. he looked like he was going to cry when he got a good look at her, that he finally realized that yes, it's her. the one that left him in belgium all those years ago.

and maybe she could cry too.

"maxie?" a familiar nickname slipped from her lips and she didn't get a response back, but a bear hug in return.

god, her scent. it was everything to him. he fucking missed it— miss her.

"i thought... i thought you forgot about me," max buried his face into the crook of her neck, she too wrapped her arms around max and buried her face into his chest. his voice was so vulnerable, all she wanted to do was curl around him and tell him that she would never.

she shook her head as she sank into the hug, "i could never forget my maxie," she mumbled into his chest, he held onto her tighter. he never wanted to let go, not now, not ever. she was where she was finally supposed to be, right in his arms.

once they got time alone after his race, max had stolen her away from her friend and dragged her into his driver's room, locking the door and pushing her against the wall, slamming his lips onto hers. he had been dreaming about this for so long, his lips on hers.

he didn't want to so sexual with her, no not yet. being in the small driver's room where they couldn't be free out of the public eye wasn't a good place. he just wanted to touch her, hold her, love her, make sure that she knew how much he had missed this.

missed them being together.

her hands instinctively went up to hold onto his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he kissed her softly. the feelings going through him were a mix of nostalgia, longing and love. he loved her for so long and it was so like her to show up when it mattered the most.

he won it for her today, to show her, that the little max she knew still had it in him to win and to impress her even with a world championship under his belt.

she felt the softness and the gentleness that max was touching her with, she knew how much he loved her. how much he care, how much he longed for her touch and she did too, only so much more.

she had so many questions in her, on why he never replied to the letters she sent or why he never sent any himself, not knowing what happened with her letters and why they never arrived properly.

but she didn't care at the moment, all she cared about was that she was safely in his arms, never to be let go ever again.

safe to say, her lips were to the point of bruising that night. max had forbade her to go back home, or to be away from his sight. he had kissed her silly, not wanting to let her go and there she was, settled nicely in his arms.

it's not like she wanted to go anywhere anyway.

the movie in the background was long forgotten, max's lips felt like they were molded for hers. he had waited for her for so long, waited to feel her skin after so long and this just felt right, it felt right when he was with her.

"maxie— mmhh— my love, stop," she had to talk in between kisses, max didn't want to let her go, his fingers were basically imprinted onto her waist. she was straddling max as he sat upright and kissed her, so softly. like she would break if he was any harder, even though he absolutely did want to kiss her harder.

max released her from the kiss with a pout, his pretty lips were red and swollen from all the kissing they did. everything in the world just seemed to fade into the background when they were together, like everyone else in this world was so insignificant for their time and they were the only people worthy of each other's time.

"but why? i wanna kiss you, i miss you. i have waited for you for ten years, the least you can do is let me kiss you until you're sick of me," max mumbled against her lips and all she could do was giggle.

god, her laugh, he loved it.

she shook her head and left a final peck on his lips, "because i want to talk maxie, we can't just kiss whatever questions we have for eachother away," she told him but he seemed to think otherwise, she had moved back to put a bit of distance in between them, to make sure max didn't go in to kiss her again.

"oh yes we can, i don't care about the questions, schatje. i just wanna be with you, just like old days, but now it's so different because in those ten years without you, i finally realized what i felt and how i felt for you and i can't wait any damn longer to finally kiss those pretty lips of yours, so please. just let me do this for another three hours and we can talk," max begged as he pulled her closer.

she couldn't imagine kissing for another three hours as they spent the last hour doing it, but with him? she would do it for another life-time if she could.

the both of them later had the serious talk when they were done kissing each other, now wanting answers from eachother. their legs were tangled and intertwined with each other's, not wanting to let go from their skin to skin contact.

"first off, why did you never reply to my letters? i wrote you so many. so many that i lost count, i would always write to you but you never replied, why?" max's voice came out strained, all of the painful feelings from the last ten years of his life were coming out, her doe eyes looked up from where she was, laying against his chest.

"you wrote me letters? i wrote you letters, you never replied. i thought you got too busy with your karting career to reply—"

"i could never get too busy to reply to you, but i never got any of your letters, schatje," max murmured against her forehead, kissing it gently after he spoke. she hummed a response before it dawned on her, she had always sent the letters to his father's address and she knew that his father wasn't fond of her, even offering her a huge lump sum of cash just for her to stay away from his son but she never accepted it, always choosing to be beside max, no matter what happened.

she looked up and sighed, she knew what happened now, she connected the pieces, "did you send your letters off to your dad?" she asked, and max nodded before it dawned on him too.

"that fucker hid the letters from you and never sent mine..."

she could only nod sadly, but it didn't matter now. all that mattered was that they were reconnected now.

scattered around them were the countless of letters max had written to her and all of the letters from her that he never received, the years of pining, longing— all of them tucked neatly away into these little envelopes that held all of those unsaid feelings.

a soft sigh escapes her lips, she looked at all of them, there were hundreds maybe. all of them posted to where she stayed in korea but never sent, always kept in a big box where all of his letters were and hers were stuffed in there in a similar fashion.

her heart clenched when she saw how many there were, there were far more many than whatever she sent, even though she did send quite a big sum.

when max had found out, he stormed into jos' house and demanded to ask why he never sent out the letters that he wrote and a big fight broke out, she had to hold of max from physically harming his own father. then they left after given the big box filled with letters.

"there's so many..." she watched in awe as all of them were sorted by date, from the latest to the earliest, max looked up at her with those big blue icy eyes of his, he looked really sad. stuck in his feelings almost, not understand why his father would do whatever he did in the past.

max held her hand gently, pulling her into his embrace, "i have always loved you, even when i was a little kid. i just didn't understand what those feelings were, i just acted on how i felt and being away from you... i just couldn't. so i sent you my love in the form of these letters."

she left a lingering kiss on his cheek, she felt sorry for having to leave all those years ago. she should've fought, should've stood her ground on how much she wanted to stay but she was just a 16 year old kid who didn't know how to, "i know. i'm sorry i had to leave all those years ago."

"don't apologize, schatje. i have never blamed you for leaving me. i have always held love for you in my heart, even if you didn't know it."

"i always knew max, and i still do."

very willing to do a part 2 to this btw, will only do it when requested tho. not proofread, excuse grammar mistakes.

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care part 3 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You go home for Thanksgiving and who else joins your family but none other than their wonderful neighbours Agatha and Rio

-OR-

You struggle to make it through the meal and so does Agatha, but she "accidentally" spills her drink which means you fuck in the bathroom :)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, top Agatha, top Rio, fingering, oral, mention of humiliation kink

Words: 3.5k

A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE AND KUDOS!!! to celebrate here is a bonus seasonal chapter :D Happy Thanksgiving to those that celebrate, and to those who don't: enjoy the chapter anyway ;)

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Master List

A Thanksgiving To Remember

As the morning light filters through the blinds, the hotel room is dim and quiet. You wake up slowly, feeling warm and content, your body still tingling from last night. You shift slightly, realising that Rio is already awake. She’s sprawled comfortably on her side, her head resting on the pillow, her hand absently stroking your arm. Her eyes flicker open as she senses you waking, and she smiles at you lazily.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Rio hums, stretching and running a hand through her hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Good thanks, how about you?" You smile, feeling the pull of her easy, bright energy. Was she always so upbeat in the mornings?

“I’m great. But she,” Rio gestures toward Agatha with a playful smirk, “isn’t a morning person.”

Behind you, Agatha just grumbles in response, muffling her face into the pillow and pulling you closer into her. Rio leans over, a mischievous grin on her face as she brushes Agatha’s hair from her face. “C’mon, darling, I’ll make you coffee,” she offers sweetly, but you can hear the hint of a challenge in her tone. 

Agatha groans again but finally starts to sit up, stretching with an audible crack in her spine. “Fine, fine,” Agatha mutters. “But it better be good, or I’ll go back to sleep.” 

Rio laughs and gets up to make coffee, leaving Agatha to rub her eyes before looking at you. You share a quiet moment, the lingering energy from the night before making the air between you feel heavy with unspoken thoughts.

As Rio busies herself in the kitchenette in the corner of the room, Agatha grabs her phone and starts swiping through it. Not wanting to bother her, you reach for your phone too. You’re happily scrolling when a notification pops up

MILF 1 has added you to the group chat.

MILF 1 named the group chat Check-In Group

MILF 1: There. You can’t ignore us now, sweetheart.

You’re smiling at your phone when you feel Rio standing next to you, coffee in hand

“What are you smiling at? Not another potential date, I hope." She meant it as a tease, but you can hear the hint of jealousy in her voice.

“No,” you chuckle. “In fact, it’s just the opposite; Agatha is making sure that never happens again.” You tilt your phone to show Rio the notifications.

She looks down at your phone, her eyes narrowing slightly at the screen. “Why do you have Agatha saved as MILF 1?” she asks, raising her voice loud enough so Agatha hears.

You laugh nervously and quickly glance at Agatha, who’s sitting up now and lazily sipping her coffee, her attention on the two of you. She raises an eyebrow at you, her eyes glinting with something more than just curiosity.

“Well?” Rio prompts, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

You squirm under their combined gazes, feeling both flustered and slightly turned on. “It’s just the truth,” you admit sheepishly, your voice dropping as you fidget with the comforter. “She is a mom, and, well, I do want to f—” You stop yourself just in time, your cheeks heating as you look anywhere but at them.

Rio raises an eyebrow, a wicked grin curling on her lips. “Oh? And what am I saved as?” she teases, voice low and playful. “Please tell me it’s not just MILF 2.”

Your face goes hot, and you start fiddling with the comforter in your lap. “It might be.”

Rio bursts into laughter. “You really couldn’t think of something more creative?” she asks, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

Agatha’s smile never fades, but her eyes darken, and she stands up, stretching slowly. “Okay, on that note, I’m going to go shower,” she says, cutting through the playful moment. She gives Rio a brief kiss on the cheek before heading toward the bathroom. “You two behave while I’m gone.”

As Agatha disappears into the bathroom, Rio sets her coffee cup on the nightstand and leans closer to you, her expression shifting. There’s an undeniable heat in her eyes as her lips brush against yours in a kiss that’s possessive and urgent. “So you like to fuck us, hmm?” she whispers against your lips, her breath warm as it fans over your skin.

Your breath catches as her words sink in, and your body reacts almost instantly, a tingling warmth pooling low in your belly.

When the bathroom door clicks shut behind Agatha, Rio doesn’t waste a second. She pushes you back against the pillows, her touch both gentle and commanding. The electricity in the air is palpable as her lips find yours again, her kiss deepening with every passing second.

You moan softly when her hand trails down your side, grazing your hip before slipping under your waistband. She pauses just long enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re already so excited for me. Do you like it that much when I humiliate you?” Her tone is teasing, but there’s an edge to it that makes you shiver.

Before you can answer, Rio presses her lips to yours again, cutting off any reply as her hand moves with a confidence that leaves you breathless. Her touch is slow at first, teasing, as though she’s savouring every little sound you make in response. The tension between you builds rapidly, and the air is charged with unspoken need.

Somewhere in the background, you faintly register the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Rio pulls back just enough to mutter against your lips, her voice low and dripping with desire. “I’ve got about ten minutes until she's done showering.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, the hunger in her tone unmistakable. You swallow hard, your pulse racing as you meet her gaze. “I don’t think we’ll need that long anyway,” you admit softly, your voice trembling slightly under the weight of her intensity.

Rio smirks, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your answer. She wets her fingers with your arousal before burying two of them inside you, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you completely. “So eager for me already,” she murmurs, her voice both teasing and utterly dominating. Her words make your breath hitch, the hint of humiliation in her tone only heightening your anticipation as she begins to fuck you.

There is no slow buildup, and Rio is mercilessly fucking you in seconds, pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t even know you could make; you’re pretty sure that the whole floor can hear you now.

She starts to pump her fingers faster, and you can hear how wet you are. She takes your bottom lip between her teeth and bites down before soothing it with a quick swipe of her tongue. "Shhhhh, baby, try and keep quiet for me; Aggie can’t know what I’m doing.”

The idea that this sex was potentially forbidden pushes you over the edge, and you grip on to her shoulders for dear life as your orgasm comes crashing over you. You pull Rio into a messy kiss to try and dampen your moans as you wind down. She pulls her fingers out, humming with pleasure as she sucks them clean.

“Fucking hell,” you pant.

Rio looks at you with a devilish grin. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening jolts you out of the haze. Agatha steps into the room, towel-wrapped and hair damp, her expression calm as she surveys the scene. Rio immediately freezes, her eyes widening slightly like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

But Agatha doesn’t say a word. She simply raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips, before turning back to the closet to finish getting ready. Her calm, collected demeanour somehow leaves you even more flustered than being caught outright.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. After Agatha and Rio get you dressed, they drive you back to your college apartment; their voices light and playful. “Remember to actually text us this time,” Rio teases as she pulls up to the curb. “We’re not just for weekends, you know.”

“Yeah, text us, sweetheart,” Agatha adds with a soft smile. “We like hearing from you.”

“I will,” you promise, glancing at your phone, already thinking of what you were going to text them.

—

Later that evening, you’re mindlessly scrolling on your phone when you notice a new notification in your group chat with Agatha and Rio.

Check-In Group

MILF 2 changed the name to MILFs Anonymous

MILF 1: Rio!

MILF 2: Come on, just let me have this one thing :(

MILF 1: Fine, but Y/N, change our contact names now please

You roll your eyes at Rio’s antics but do as you’re told, not wanting to dissapoint Agatha; you still feel a bit guilty for having sex with Rio this morning.

—

Over the next few days, you find yourself texting with them more and more. The conversations flow easily—Agatha constantly checking in on you, always asking if you’ve eaten or if you’re doing alright. It’s sweet, in a way you didn’t expect, but it’s comforting. Rio, on the other hand, can’t resist sending her terrible dad jokes, which, despite your best efforts, always make you laugh.

MILFS Anonymous

~ 15:48

Rio: What do you call a group of crows that stick together?

You: Oh God, please stop

Agatha: Seriously. You’re not funny

Rio: VelCrows :)))

Agatha: Sometimes I wonder how I fell in love with you

Rio: It’s because I fuck you like there’s no tomorrow ;)

~ 21:17

Agatha: *click to open image*

Agatha: Huh, you don’t look like you’re doing much fucking to me

You drop your phone with a loud clatter. You were not expecting to see a picture of a Rio naked and tied to the bed with a vibrator pressed against her clit and by the looks of it, she had been like that for some time. You spend the rest of your evening fucking yourself to that image. Each time you think you’re done and can't cum any more, the image pops into your mind again, and you start to imagine all the things they would do if you were with them, and before you know it, your hand is back between your legs.

—

Thanksgiving break arrives faster than expected, and the familiar comfort of your parents' home feels like a welcome change from the chaos of college life. You arrive in the early afternoon, greeted by the warm aroma of roasted turkey and spiced pies wafting from the kitchen. It’s a little odd being home after everything that’s happened with Rio and Agatha, knowing they live just next door. You wonder if you’ll see them during your visit.

It turns out you don’t have to wonder for long.

A knock at the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and your dad answers with a cheerful, “Agatha! Rio! Happy Thanksgiving!”

Your stomach flips.

You appear in the hallway just in time to see them stepping inside, Agatha holding a neatly wrapped gift basket and Rio carrying what looks like a bottle of wine. They’re dressed casually but still look effortlessly gorgeous; Rio is dressed in a breezy striped blue shirt that’s half tucked into her jeans. The loose fit of the shirt somehow adds to her charm, her confident movements making it clear she’s completely at ease. Agatha, on the other hand, is the picture of sophistication, her fitted blazer in a warm mustard hue paired with a turtleneck and slacks giving her a commanding presence that turns heads—even in such a casual setting.

“We just wanted to drop this off,” Agatha says, her usual polished tone soft and warm. “A little something for the holiday.”

“Oh, nonsense, you’re not just dropping it off,” your mom insists, appearing behind your dad. “You’re staying for dinner. It’s the least we can do after everything you did for this one when they got locked out in the rain.”

Your heart nearly stops. You glance at Agatha, who meets your wide-eyed look with a calm, knowing smile.

“Really, it wasn’t any trouble,” Agatha says smoothly, a teasing lilt in her voice. “I mean, we could’ve just let them in with the spare key you gave us, but... well, we thought they might prefer a warm bed and some company at ours instead.”

Your cheeks burn as Rio chimes in, her grin bordering on wicked. “And they didn’t seem to mind one bit.”

Your parents laugh, completely oblivious to the deeper meaning behind the exchange, but you feel like you’re about to combust. Agatha and Rio both throw you brief, pointed glances before following your mom into the dining room, leaving you standing there trying to steady your racing heart.

—

Dinner starts off innocently enough, but the air feels charged in a way you can’t quite explain. You’re hyper-aware of Rio sitting across from you and Agatha beside you, their presence consuming all your focus.

Rio’s long fingers wrap elegantly around her wine glass as she listens to your dad talk, but her gaze keeps drifting to you, her lips curving into a faint smirk every time your eyes meet. Meanwhile, Agatha takes every opportunity to lean close, brushing her arm against yours under the guise of reaching for the breadbasket or whispering a sly comment in your ear that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“You look a little flushed, sweetheart,” Agatha purrs at one point, her tone dripping with amusement. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, biting your lip to keep from saying something that would give you away. Rio catches the exchange and arches an eyebrow, her gaze flickering between the two of you knowingly.

It only gets worse as the meal progresses. Rio’s foot grazes yours under the table, lingering just long enough to send a thrill up your spine. 

When Agatha pours herself another glass of wine, she tilts the bottle toward you with a raised brow, silently asking if you’d like more. You nod, not trusting your voice. As she leans over to fill your glass, her lips brush your ear so faintly it feels like a whisper of air. “Behave, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her voice so low and intimate that a shiver runs down your spine.

You clench your thighs and glance up at her wide-eyed, but she only pulls back with that same subtle smile, her expression calm and unreadable.

You do your best to stay composed, but your mind is spinning. Every touch, every look, and every smirk makes it harder to focus on anything else.

Then, as if the universe wants to test your resolve further, Agatha “accidentally” spills a bit of wine on her sweater.

“Oh, shoot,” she says, dabbing at the stain with her napkin.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” your mom says quickly. “Y/N, show Agatha where the bathroom is, and grab her a clean top from the laundry room, will you?”

You nod, your pulse quickening as you rise from the table. Agatha follows you down the hall, her calm exterior betraying nothing, but you can feel the tension radiating off her like heat. You scurry off to grab Agatha a clean top and quickly show her to the bathroom.

The moment you’re alone in the room, she closes the door behind you with a soft click and turns to face you, her expression shifting from composed to utterly predatory.

“Finally,” she murmurs, stepping closer, her voice low and thick with desire. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you all evening?”

Your breath catches as she backs you against the counter, her hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against her. Her lips are on yours before you can respond, the kiss hungry and demanding, igniting a fire in your chest that spreads through your entire body.

“Agatha, we—” you start to protest, your voice a shaky whisper, but she silences you with another kiss, her hands sliding up your sides to cup your face.

“They’re none the wiser,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “Now, let me have you for just a moment.”

Before you can respond, Agatha’s hands drift lower, deftly removing anything on your bottom half that will get in the way of her goal and letting the fabric fall to the tiled floor. Her gaze darkens as she sinks to her knees in front of you, her palms sliding down your thighs, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, full of lust and mischief, as she leans in closer. “Dripping everywhere,” she murmurs, her voice husky and teasing, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Just like the first time we were in a bathroom together. Seems I have a knack for this, don’t I?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as her words hang in the air, her presence between your legs sending a surge of electricity through you.

It might be Thanksgiving, but your body feels like the Fourth of July when she drags her tongue from your entrance to your clit. She sucks it into her mouth and flicks lightly with the tip of her tongue before releasing it and going back to push her tongue inside you. The woman is on a mission and wastes no time in bringing you close to your climax in record time.

Her hand clamps over your mouth, not willing to risk you letting the whole street know that you’re going to cum, and then, with a final flick of her tongue, you’re glad she did because the orgasm hits you like a fucking 18-wheeler truck, your legs start to shake, and you have to grip on to the sink to stop yourself from collapsing. 

Your breathing comes in ragged gasps as the world tilts back into focus, your body still trembling from the intensity of what just happened. Agatha stands, her movements unhurried and precise as she grabs a tissue and delicately wipes the corner of her mouth, her expression one of calm satisfaction.

"Still as sweet as I remember," she murmurs, her voice low and teasing as she crumples the tissue and tosses it into the small trash can by the sink.

You blink at her, still clinging to the edge of the sink for balance, your legs shaky and your mind a hazy blur of aftershocks. Agatha’s hands are steady as she helps you straighten your clothes, her touch lingering just a moment too long, her fingers grazing the small of your back before she steps away.

She smooths the fresh top you fetched for her, giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror. Perfectly put together, not a single hair out of place. You can’t help but marvel at her composure, especially when you feel like you’ve just been turned inside out.

Agatha turns back to you, a soft, almost maternal smile on her lips as she gives your ass a light pat. “Go on, darling,” she says, her tone playful but firm. “Head back out there before they start to wonder. I’ll be right behind you.”

You swallow hard, willing your legs to cooperate, and make your way back to the dining room, still trying to regain your composure.

The two of you return to the dining room during dessert, the scent of sweet pies and coffee wafting in the air. Agatha looks completely composed now, her clean top fitting snugly as she takes her seat next to you. She even stops for a moment to dab a napkin at the corner of her mouth—the perfect picture of elegance considering she was wiping away the last remnants of your cum. You, however, can feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you settle down, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze too directly.

From the other side of the table, Rio watches the two of you with a smirk that’s far too knowing for comfort. She raises her glass in a small toast, the corner of her lips quirking in amusement before she takes a slow sip.

“So,” she says casually, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with mischief, “did the mess get sorted out?”

Agatha doesn’t miss a beat, shooting her a calm, collected smile. “All taken care of. They were very helpful.” She says, draping an arm around the back of your chair.

Your mother beams, none the wiser. “Well, that’s sweet. Always good to know you’ve got a helping hand.”

Rio stifles a laugh behind her hand, her eyes meeting yours briefly. The heat simmering beneath your skin refuses to let up, and you can only hope that dessert wraps up soon—before someone else catches on.

-----

"we could’ve just let them in with the spare key"

*humming* it was Agatha all along

⚠️Remember⚠️validation saves lives (this fic dies when I believe nobody likes it anymore because I have imposter syndrome)

READ PART 4

-----

taglist: @aceday @valarmorghuli @ctrlamira @lezbean-with-a-side-of-dilfs @noturlondonboy @darkangelchronicles @4theluvofsapphos

[gloomwitchwrites]

LOVED the sit down fics. Please consider: US telling THEM to sit down. What are they going to do? Argue and sleep on the couch? (Love your works!! Always makes my day when I see a new one)

AHHHHHHHHH! ANON OMG! I love this. I giggled and kicked my feet the entire time I was working on these. I had so much fun jumping back into the Imagines Series after Kinktober with this prompt. While I'm still working through the 3.5k Spooky Bingo event, I am returning to my usual content.

For those curious, THIS is the fic that Anon is referring to.

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, suggestive themes, flirting, arguments, swearing

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“John. We have to talk about this.”

“We are talking.”

“No. We’re arguing. And you’re not listening.”

“Of course I’m listening, love.”

“Then what did I just say?” you ask, exasperated.

John opens his mouth and then pauses. He loses steam, the gears turning as he realizes he’s wrong. He takes a deep breath and then holds up his hands. “If I’m being honest, love—”

“Fuck. Sit down, John.”

Your tone is sharp, and John drops into a chair, completely silent, his gaze locked in on you.

“If you are not going to listen to me, then I’m ending this discussion. We can come back to this later. When we’re calm.”

John is always the steady one. He’s your rock, but for whatever reason, this one discussion has transformed into an argument.

There is silence after, and you have no idea what John thinks of your sudden authoritative demeanor. His face is blank, and then his mouth turns up into an amused smile.

“What?” you ask, suddenly flustered.

John relaxes into the chair, spreading his thighs wide in invitation. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re angry, love.”

“Don’t distract me, John,” you mutter, the irritation beginning to melt away.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"We're having this out," says Kyle, grabbing your upper arm. He tugs you against him, head tipping forward in an intimate gesture.

"I don't want to argue with you," you reply.

"And I'm not done." His tone is calm but firm. Whenever Kyle sets his mind to something, it can be difficult for him to change course.

"Well, I am." Kyle's hold on your upper arm tightens a bit. It's not painful, but he draws you closer. "Now, sit down."

"Wha—"

"Sit. Down."

Kyle draws back, startled. His hold loosens and descends to grasp your wrist as he sinks onto the sofa. You rarely assert yourself, but you're frustrated with him.

“I am done fighting about this. Either we find a compromise, or we end this discussion.” Kyle breathes deep, his gaze intense as you continue. “You can sleep out here if you won’t budge.”

“I sleep beside you,” replies Kyle.

“Then talk to me. Don’t push me around.”

Kyle’s hand on your wrist softens, his thumb gently caressing the inside of your palm. It makes you shiver, and Kyle pulls you closer. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, voice soothing.

"Can we talk now? No fighting?"

"No fighting," he agrees.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Irritation bubbles under your skin, creating a buzzing sensation that puts you on edge. You and Simon rarely fight but the two of you always circle back to the same issue.

“I’m sick of talking in circles. We have to figure this out.”

The corner of Simon’s mouth twitches. “I’ve already told you how I feel about it,” he says.

“I understand but we have to find a compromise.”

“I’m not willing to budge on this.”

“Simon—"

He pushes in, invading your space. “You’re the one that’s undecided.”

You hate being bossed around, and you hate it more when Simon flaunts his dominance during a disagreement.

“Sit down,” you growl.

Simon blinks, startled. “What?”

“Sit. Down.”

Simon’s gaze narrows, the middle of his brow creasing. But he sits, settling on the sofa.

“I understand how you feel but I need you to listen to how I’m feeling. This is a big decision, and I want us to talk through things. I’m not just going to bend over and take it.”

“But you like it when I bend you over.”

“Simon Riley!”

Simon smirks “Need to let out a little steam?”

“Yes,” you mutter, flustered. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Arguments with Johnny almost always end in sex.

He’ll use his tongue, his fingers, and then eventually his dick until you’re blissfully fucked out of your head.

“You are not distracting me,” you say sharply as Johnny moves in, a sly smile on his face.

His hands settle on your waist, gripping tightly. You know if you don’t get a handle on this now, you’ll be face down in the bed with ass in the air in moments. It’s Johnny’s favorite position.

Placing your hands on Johnny’s chest, you give him a bit of a shove, creating space. “Sit down, Johnny.”

Johnny’s eyebrows rise suggestively. With a sauntering sway, Johnny sits on the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless and wearing grey sweatpants. They hang dangerously low on his hips.

You cover your eyes. “We need to have a conversation that doesn’t end in sex.”

“I don’t see the issue.”

“Of course you don’t,” you mutter.

“I like it when you boss me around.” You can feel his heat just before his arms slide around you.

“Oh my God,” you groan, pushing at his chest. “Sit down.”

Johnny teasingly nips at your neck. “Only if you sit in my lap.”

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